When Hope Lives
by cymberleah
Summary: It's part two!! Read When Dreams Change, first. Now... it begins to get good.
1. Waking up

The dream was shattered by the persistent ringing of an alarm clock. The chattering chime pierced the peacefulness of slumber, but did not fully rouse the figure under the down comforter. It did penetrate the fog of sleep that surrounded her enough for her to fling an arm outside the warmth of the cover, search around the top of the nightstand for the source of the disturbance, and fling it with eerie accuracy out the door and into the living room. The annoying sound faded with distance, and the arm flopped back on top of the cover.

And she still slept.

Time passed, minutes turning into an hour all too quickly. The alarm clock still could be heard, ringing faintly from where it had landed near the couch, but its faithful reminder was not what finally woke her. It was instead her arm, grown cold from its placement outside the blanket that disturbed her rest. The chill of the room penetrated her skin, reaching down to her bones. With the first shiver, her mind began to be dragged away from its pleasant dream.

Then, with a sudden start, she awoke, sitting up straight in bed with the panicked look of one who has overslept. She heard the faint ringing from outside her room, and looked frantically at the empty nightstand.

"Aw, crap."

The cover was flung back, folding over itself, the top end sliding to the floor at the foot of the bed. Had she stayed to watch, she could have seen the entire blanket end up in a pile at the foot of her bed, but instead she flew to her left, rushing into the bathroom to brush her hair and her teeth. She splashed water on her face and looked longingly at the shower, but the angle of the light streaming in her window told her that she had no time. She backed quickly out of the bathroom and rolled over her bed, flinging open the armoire doors and grabbing whatever was close to hand. Looking at her choices, she grimaced, and put back the plaid pants that had been a gag birthday present and picked up a mostly clean pair off the floor.

She closed the cabinet doors and squirmed into her clothes after quickly shucking her pajamas. She dashed around the foot of the bed, still buttoning her pants and slid on the jumble of blanket. She cursed as her feet slid beneath her, the wood floor providing no traction as she tripped and danced. With a final loud curse she managed to fall onto the bed, and sat there for a moment, panting, fully awake and scowling at the world. Then she vaulted over the pile of blanket and dashed into the living room. A quick bend and grab and she caught the alarm clock, turned it off, and tossed it back in the bedroom. It landed on the bed, sitting proudly in the near center of the bed she had finally vacated.

Dashing into the kitchen, she pondered drinking the sludge that was left over from yesterday's attempt to make coffee, but passed on it for her health when it refused to pour. Instead, she grabbed a bagel from the refrigerator and a can of soda. The bagel was jammed in her mouth, the soda held firmly in her left hand as she turned and completed the last section of her morning obstacle course: the couch vault. When she had first bought the piece of furniture the delivery men had placed it nearly dead center in the middle of her living room, directly blocking the path from the kitchen to the door. While she intended to move it someday, this morning, like many mornings previous, she simply ignored it as an obstacle and jumped it. 

A few quick steps, and she bounded over the coffee table. One hand reached for the back of the couch, propelling her over and just happening to grab the jacket that had been slung over the back. She pulled it on, checked to make sure the keys were properly in the right pocket, and shoved the can of soda in the left pocket. The door was closed and locked behind her in a matter of seconds, and she dashed down the hall. The stairs proved little obstacle for her, the four flights quickly disappearing under her as she flung herself over the rails and dropped. 

She was incredibly glad that she lived near work. The Rose Quarter was one of the oldest sections of the city, a beautiful area that managed to attract fewer people than it ought. There were very few roses and the area was nowhere near a quarter of the city, but it was a nice few blocks. The widow boxes were well-tended, the people were friendly, but the selling point for her was that the wiring in the buildings was much better than anywhere else in the city. She could actually run a computer on the power supplied to her building. That alone was worth the rent; the pretty stuff was incidental.

Of course, its closeness to work was nice, too, especially on days, or mornings, like today's. She sprinted on the sidewalks, dashing into the street when the pedestrian traffic in front of her blocked her path. A few shouted hellos came out of her mouth as she passed acquaintances, they either waved or shouted a greeting at her in return, but one look was enough for them to see she didn't have time to chat, if the hour of the morning wasn't enough of a clue.

She slowed down a block from the Plant, giving her enough time to catch her breath before presenting her badge at the door. The guard gave her a wry look, but kindly refrained from scolding. He knew it was a waste of breath. This girl hardly ever arrived on time. She gave him a quick nod as she passed by, already mentally entering her office. The halls passed by unnoticed as she wove her way around some of her fellow technicians. All too soon, and much too late, she made it to her lab.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the scowling face of her boss.

"Anne, can't you ever be on time?"


	2. Yes'm

"Guess not," she replied cheerfully, and was rewarded by seeing her boss roll her eyes. "Past performance indicates that I cannot ever wake up early enough to get here on time."

"Ever heard of an alarm clock?"

"I have one of those. They get tossed out of the room before I manage to wake up."

Her boss sighed and rolled her eyes again. "Why don't you just try to surprise me, and arrive on time someday, okay?" She moved out of the doorway, allowing Anne to pass. 

Anne ducked her head in apology, and passed by. She rolled her eyes as soon as she was sure she wouldn't get caught. Making her way to her office in the back, she was met by her friend Effie. A true friend, she had a cup of hot, still steaming coffee in her hands. Anne accepted it gratefully, sipping at it gingerly, then blowing on the surface to cool it some.

"You are wonderful," she breathed as she waited for it to cool.

"And don't you forget it," she was reminded. "Another late night?"

"Aren't they always?" was the wry reply. 

"With you, yes. You look terrible."

"Thanks." She sipped at her coffee again, then set the mug down on her desk. 

"How late were you up this morning?"

"Three. I think."

"If you aren't sure, you're staying up too late. Try taking a night off, sleeping an actual eight hours."

"Life's too short to spend one third of it asleep."

"You always say that."

Anne yawned. "There's no fighting the need to work through some ideas. The only reason I'm not fired is because so much of my late night work is thinking through stuff I use the next day."

"That and this whole division was practically your idea. You genius lady, you."

"Stop that. It's too early for sarcasm. You sound like a sycophant."

"It's never too early for sarcasm. And the day I suck up to a wretch like you…"

"…is the day that the suns rise?"

"Never. Death first."

"Death tends to come before never."

"Huh?"

"I'm being obtuse again. Ignore me."

"If you ladies wish to chat, try arriving before work begins," came the terse voice from behind them.

"Yes'm," they chorused, Effie leaving for her desk, and Anne reaching down and powering up her computer. She heard her office door close quietly behind her, and turned to meet the concerned gaze of her boss.

"She's right; you do look like crap. If you need to take the day off…"

"I'm okay," she rushed to reassure her boss. "I'll sleep more tonight. Promise, mom."

She sighed. "We do care. And you seem to push yourself harder here than anyone else. Taking days off is not a bad thing. That's why you get things like sick days and vacation days. So you can rest."

"I'd love to take a day off. But try turning my mind off… At least when I can come in here, I can work through whatever kept me awake the night before. It's cathartic."

"Maybe. But if you don't start looking better, and arriving on time, I'm going to force you to take some days off."

"Yes'm. I'll try to get some more sleep."

"It's not just sleep. You've been working here for two and a half years, and you've never missed a workday. Been late, yes, always. But entirely missed? And all the weekends you work? You need to take some time off."

"That sounds nice, but when am I supposed to do that? Our next trials come up in a week and a half, and hopefully we'll have enough of the bugs worked out to begin to move into production. That's sure to find a few more problems."

"Contrary to your firmly held opinion, we are able to function here without your presence. You may be the senior research tech, but you are not the only one here with a functioning brain. You take a few days off and things will not fall to pieces."

"So you think," she muttered.

"So I know. No one here is a moron. If problems arise, we can find answers, too. You don't have to do everything."

"Only if I want it to be done right," she pointed out.

"Only if you want it to be done your way. There are many solutions to problems. You have a flair for coming up with some of the simplest, but you aren't always right."

"Mostly right."

"True. Which is why we put up with you." She changed tactics. "After we hit production, I think you need to take a break. Go… visit your family or something. I'm sure they're dying to see you; it's been how many years?"

Anne sighed. "Almost four. I don't… think they miss me. I may not have been to see them, but they could have come to see me, too."

"So, what do you have to lose? Or, you could spend the time practicing with that band of yours. Don't you have a few dates coming up?"

"Singing in bars is hardly a way to spend my vacation. If I take one."

"You will take one. I'm going to make sure of that."

"Oh, thanks," she said, slightly sarcastic.

"It's for your own good. Now, get to work. I hope you figured out some way around the linkage problem last night, because we're running short on time to get the patch in production."

"I think I have, but I'm going to have to mess around with some modeling before I'm sure."

"Well, you get to that. I'm going to go crack the whip. Christie and Shanelle just don't seem to realize how close we are to deadline." With that, she left. Anne glared at the closed door, resenting the thought of being forced on vacation. Then she pulled up the wiring schematics and started trying to see if her idea would work. She picked up her coffee and sipped at it while she tweaked things a bit.


	3. Worries

Unfortunately, her mind would not stay on the work problem.

Family. 

What a hassle that was. When it came to ignoring how much their continued absence hurt, some days were harder than others. She didn't need some overly concerned boss telling her to go visit them. They could visit her, if they cared at all.

Sure, she was the one who had left. Sure, they would have had to search a little to find her. But if they had wanted to find her, they could have. It had been four years, and she hadn't heard a word from any of them. Not Vash, or Meryl, or Ace. Or Knives. So they obviously didn't care. Which was fine by her. Really.

It just showed that she had been right, in not telling them that she was a plant. She knew that they'd have cared then. She hadn't said anything because she wanted to know if they cared for her at all as a person, and now she had her answer. Obviously, they didn't.

She worried at the old pain, the sharp hurt having dulled with time into a ache of the soul. No one cared. Not for her. No one ever had. No one ever would. She sipped at her coffee. Not even Effie.

Damned bunch of racists on this planet, anyway. Why should it matter if she was human or not? Effie hated plants, hated them with a passion. She had worked hard to get in on the experimentation that went on in this lab. She would do anything to reduce human dependency on plants, to be able to see the day when all the plants would be deactivated. 

That was her goal, at least. Hers, and some of her friends. Anne had started to work at the Plant because this was where the last of the Lost Technology resided, but she had found more than computers and databases. There was a substratum of workers here who hated the plants. They feared the power they possessed, feared what ends that power could be turned to if they ever got out of the bulbs.

When they got out of the bulbs, that is. She hadn't tried to learn too much, but from clues her fried had dropped, she surmised that her group was comprised in part of the people who had held and used Ace for the first few months of her life. Draining the dregs of her cup, she wondered if it would ever be delivered to her laced with something, a poison or soporific. Maybe she would drink it, and the world would turn black, and she would pass from this world, or awake to find herself trapped somewhere again.

She looked at the mug musingly, then set it down. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. She tried to turn her attention back to her job, but the caffeine or the lack of sleep was playing merry hell with her concentration. The only thing she could think about was her family, or the closest thing she had to one on this planet.

The plants. Working here, she had seen innumerable abuses heaped upon the bulbed workers. Most of them didn't care, having passed beyond that point years, decades, even a century ago. But some did, and if she listened closely, she could hear them complain, a thin network of thoughts that was less now than it had been even two years ago. 

They had never been intended to be used like this. Anne had made a careful study of available records, wondering just what she was now, and what she had found dismayed her. The plants were used now as fusion reactors, and that is what they were designed for, but the manner in which they were used had changed drastically. 

The theory had been that the fusion reaction would be best controlled by a intelligent mind, one attached to a body that produced the reaction. The mind could control the reaction, and by keeping it within a body they could use the kinesthetic sense, among others, to help regulate the output. If something began to go wrong, a body had many different ways of informing the mind that something is in error. True, sensors and an artificial intelligence could also perform the deed, but why try to recreate the advances of nature? Instead, various human genomes were altered. Genius was added, to help the monitoring of the fusion reaction. Various gene combinations that she recognized from Genalt configurations were grafted in to help control the energy flow and flux. The bulbs were created as an environment that was most conducive to the control of the new creatures. Computer systems were configured to ease as much of the burden on the plants as possible. If needed, the plants could perform all tasks necessary to control the reaction in their bodies, but to do so was incredibly taxing and tiring, and led to failure in the plants themselves if allowed to go on for very long. 

Computer systems had been failing all over Gunsmoke for the past decade. They were beginning to reach the end of their projected life, anyway, having not been designed to be self-replicating systems when manufactured on Earth. Add to their age the less-than-ideal conditions on the planet, and the fact that every system had already been stressed by the Great Fall, what you got did not paint a pretty picture for the future. 

And that was if she didn't care about what happened to the plants at all, and only worried about the humans. But she did care about both. Cared more than she would have thought she could, which was why she was here, taking her best stab at a real job, working out alternate forms of energy, trying to find a way to reduce or eliminate demand on the plants. 

Because they were people, and they deserved better than to be shut into a bulb and left to rot, slaving away for people who never knew just what really powered their lives. 

It was slavery, and just because the plants had been created for it didn't make it any less wrong. They had been bred and designed to be machines, but they weren't. Even the bulbed plants had personalities, or at least those who had not yet given up on life had. Granted, they weren't humans, but they shared the same basic genome. They deserved better treatment.

Anne rubbed the back of her neck and snarled at her monitor. Dammit, why did she have to be the only one trying to fix things? 


	4. Lunch

A hand reached out and pushed hers off her neck. It proceeded to rub at the tension gathered there, an expression of friendship and concern.

"It's lunchtime, and Effie has threatened to kill me if I don't get you out of this office and taking a real break," said a soft male voice.

"We can't have that," she said, leaning back into the massage for another moment before sitting up. Turning, she smiled up at Mark. "That kitten is dangerous when she gets mad."

"I heard that," said Effie from the doorway.

"I know you did. Am I wrong?"

"Hmm." She pretended to be deep in thought for a moment, then smiled. "Nope!" she replied perkily. "Dangerous is fun!"

"That's what you think."

"Aw, don't be so dour all the time. It's a beautiful sunny day outside. Let's go take advantage of it!"

"It's always sunny."

"But the winds have been calm the past couple days, so it's clear, too. The sky is blue enough to perk even you up, gloomy pants."

"Even me? This I'll have to see."

"That's what I've been saying. Come on, let's go! Lunchtime doesn't last forever!"

Mark turned around, leaning on his cane as he shifted his weight. "A date with two lovely ladies? All the men will envy me."

"All the men who don't know us," pointed out Anne. "The ones who do will pity you."

"Envy, pity, little difference. How's the day going for you girls?"

"Long," replied Effie. I'm stuck trying to coordinate six different teams, two of which are way behind where they are supposed to be, and we need to be ready for trial in less than two weeks. I feel like I'm being forced into the mommy role, nagging and cajoling, and coaxing when all I want to do is toss the lot of them out the nearest window."

"Well, you get paid to be their mommy," Mark pointed out.

"Yes. But does it have to be so hard? Some days I wish I could be Anne, luxuriating in the privacy of my office, merely thinking up the pretty thoughts everyone else has to make work."

The lady in question sighed. "I'm blocked this morning. I think I didn't get enough sleep last night; I'm having a real hard time concentrating."

"I can get you more coffee," offered Effie as Mark peered at Anne's face.

"You look like crap," he pronounced.

"Thanks," Anne said wryly. "I'm not sure more caffeine is what I really need right now, but thanks. No, I'm pretty sure it's just stress. I've never been a fan of deadlines, and working out bugs this close to testing is making me edgy. And whiny. Someone, get some food in me before I start complaining about my messed up childhood, quick!"

Effie stopped in the hall. "Oh, so if we don't feed you, you'll finally talk about yourself? Not much of an incentive to get you food."

"No, I'll just stand here and whine. Trust me it's not a pretty sight. Besides, my childhood was mostly dull and boring," she lied. "I'm doing you a favor to keep my mouth shut."

"That's not it. You just like keeping that aura of mystery wrapped around you shoulders. Like a shawl. That's it! I shall make you the shawl of mystery, and make you wear it around the lab!"

Mark coughed.

Anne smiled a little. "That won't work. Lab coats are required. Lab shawls are not."

Effie pouted a little. "Fine. I shall make it and drape it over the back of your chair. Nothing against the rules there."

"I'm honored. And touched. Or you're touched."

Effie sighed. "No one understands me."

"You do your best to keep things that way," pointed out Mark, opening the door to the outside. They all absently waved at the door guard as they filed out into the sunshine. Mark and Anne squinted into the glare, and Effie raised a hand to shade her eyes. 

"I always forget how bright it gets when there isn't so much dust in the air," she commented absently as they made their way to their favorite café.

"So you've listened to our day," pointed out Anne to Mark. "What did you do?"

"Oh, same as always. Paperwork, and supervising physical training. I'm highly qualified to hold a pencil, you know." Bitterness touched the edge of his voice, but it was an old pain, one the girls already knew and understood. 

"It could be worse," pointed out Anne. "It could be exciting."

Mark grinned at her. "You are one of the rare ones," he said. "So many people think exciting is better."

"Not when you're a guard. Then exciting just means trouble."

"Some days I wish for a little trouble. It's been really boring. Last time anything of note happened was almost a year ago."

"That vandalism thing?" A few students had protested over what they saw as abuses heaped on the plants. Protested with paint and mild violence. Anne always wondered just what such actions were meant to accomplish.

"Yeah. Ever since then, it's just been lost ID badges and demagnetized key cards."

"Hardly worth waking up for."

"But…" he paused a moment.

"The pay is good," they all chorused, a well-rehearsed refrain.

They ordered lunch, then spent a few mostly silent minutes as they ate. Anne looked around the square, assessing potential problems absently, not really paying attention to what was going on around her. Mark did the same, as he had been trained to. She wondered sometimes if he caught her at it, noticed her noticing the same things he did, but if he did, he never commented on it. Sometimes she wondered at Effie's blindness, her inability to pay attention to the world around her. Effie lived in her own little sphere of reality, and Anne loved her for it. 

Some days she wondered how she managed to find two such wonderful friends. Not through any virtue of hers, that she was sure of. But for some strange reason, these two people seemed to like her as much as she liked them.

And that was very nice, indeed.


	5. Banter

Anne picked up her glass and played with the condensation that had accumulated, then took a sip of her water before putting it back down. She leaned back in her chair and looked up, past the parasol that shaded the table, up into the sky so blue, and tried to not think about who's eyes the color brought to mind. 

It was a pretty day. The city sounded healthy, the cries and conversations of people merging into a hum that was almost melodic. The sounds of vehicles, the rumble of engines, squeals of breaks, the occasional horn, this was the harmony. And the bass… the bass was the slow throb of life, the uncanny swell and ebb of sound. Slow, so slow, a heartbeat measured in minutes, but present all the same. 

She closed her eyes and listened, head resting on the back of the chair. She could feel herself slipping into sleep, and didn't fight the feeling. After the few hours of sleep last night she could use a little nap. She dozed, mind preparing itself for slumber, content to listen to the city.

Until an ice cube was slipped down the front of her shirt. She sat up straight and tried to shake it off her chest, but it got caught in her bra. Cheeks flaming red, she fished under her shirt and grabbed it, then flung it at the laughing Effie. It hit her on the cheek, and the small woman mimed being thrown back into her chair. One hand went shakily up to her cheek, cradling the place that had been hit, then fingering the small red mark. 

"Oooooo," she moaned dramatically.

Mark had been grinning, and his reward was to be flicked in the face with droplets of water stolen from his glass. Satisfied that she had punished the wicked, Anne sat back down and sulked.

"Oh, stop that, both of you," chuckled Mark as he mopped his face with his napkin. "Anne, you can't take a nap now. We need to get back to work."

"Yeah, even a super genius like you will get her butt fired if she shows up late and leaves early this close to deadline," proclaimed Effie.

"Bah." Anne stood up and threw some money on the table. "I'm not a super genius." They all stood to leave, but the banter continued unbroken.

"A modest super genius."

"Not a genius."

"I've seen some of your work," chimed in Mark. "Most of it's completely over my head."

"Only because you haven't been trained in electrical systems. I'm sure there are things you do that I wouldn't understand."

"I'm not so certain. You seem pretty quick to me."

"You're sweet."

"Sugar, baby."

"I'll give you quick. But genius? Please. I'm not that smart."

"Suit yourself."

"Thank you. I will."

"Whether we try to let you or not?"

"Damn straight."

"Stubborn woman," he declared to the sky above, pausing in his trek to lift his arms high. Effie nudged the small of his back to break him from his dramatic trance. 

"Isn't that just being repetitive? Woman already compromises the concept of stubborn. You don't need to repeat yourself."

"Oh. So sorry. Please, forgive mine grievous error, oh gracious one."

"Consider yourself absolved. Just do not make such a horrid mistake again."

"Oh, thank you most kind and wondrous lady. I am humbled by your grace and beauty, along with your magnanimity."

"Stop using the big words, you obnoxious man," responded Effie, peevishly.

"He said you're sweet," translated Anne. 

"Aww," she squealed, flinging her arms around his neck. "You're sweet, too."

"Thanks, short stuff."

By this time, they had reached the Plant again. They separated again, Mark going off to his office, and Anne and Effie walking back to the lab.

"Feeling better?" inquired Effie.

"Yes. A good bit," said Anne, surprised to find it to be true. "You guys are too good for me."

"Of course we are. You're our resident charity case."

"I thought it might be something like that."

Effie smacked her on the shoulder. "We really need to work on your self esteem issues."

"What self esteem issues?" growled Anne, mock angry.

"The great big ones that follow you about everywhere you go."

"Oh. Those."

"Yeah, those. Face it. You, girl, are stuck with us no matter what."

"No matter what, huh?"

"Yup. There's nothing you can do to get rid of us, so just accept that we're going to be sticking around."

"Especially Mark."

"He is awful smitten with you. You guys should date."

"I'm taken."

"By your mystery boyfriend? Who we still have yet to meet? See a picture of? Get a name?"

"Yes."

"I think you need to get over that chump. It's been years; he's probably got another chick already."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Life's too short to wait on this guy. You should go on at least one date with Mark. You guys would be the cutest couple."

"Cute is not the driving factor in my relationships."

"So what do you look for in a guy?"

"Stuff."

"Thanks. More specifics, come on!"

"Don't we have work to do?"

"Work can wait. Spill it, sister. What turns you on?"

"Well… A guy needs to be strong. Mentally. Very strong willed."

"He is. See? Good start. What else?"

"Well… cute, obviously."

"And what is cute?"

"Pretty eyes." Anne blushed. "I really want out of this conversation now."

"He has very pretty eyes." She relented. "Fine. Run away to your office. I shall pester you later."

"I await the hour with trepidation."

"Huh?"

"Dread. Much dread."

"Oh. Ok. See ya later then!" She darted through the door with a little half wave. Anne could hear her begin to scold someone as the door closed. 

She sighed, then continued to her desk and monitor, resolving to get some real work done this afternoon. They were so close to a real solution that pondering her personal problems was a nearly criminal waste of time.

But she couldn't help thinking that maybe, when all this was over and the solar power collectors came online… Maybe she should go back to the ship. Just for some closure. Maybe.


	6. Dinner

She applied herself to the task at hand, but the solution she had thought she had found turned out to be a bust. She thought for a few minutes that the modeling system might be buggy, but then she found the flaw in her logic. With a face-twisting grimace, she sat back and tried to not pout.

Taking the tie out of her hair, she raked her fingers through the unbound mass, marveling again at how thick her hair was, when she let it grow. That was one of the things you forgot when you kept it short, just what it felt like to have a bunch of hair hanging from your head. It was actually kind of nice to have long hair, she had to admit. Sure, it took a little more care than short hair, and an enemy could grab it when you fought, but she had the time, now. And lacked the enemies, thankfully.

Her fingers caught on a snarl, and she worked it out, running her fingernails through the caught hairs until they fell free again. Then she tied her hair back up, leaned forward, and buried her head in her hands. 

She was stuck. Completely and totally stuck. The project could go on even if she didn't figure this piece out, but something teased at the edges of her mind, an elegant solution that would increase output dramatically. If she could just see it… but she couldn't. It taunted her, teasing the edges of her mind, but she couldn't figure out what it was she was missing. 

Standing, she turned off her monitor and called it a day. Whatever it was, it wasn't going to come to her now. Maybe later tonight, when she was tired and feeling more creative, but not now. She checked her watch and noted with some surprise that it was only a few minutes until it was time to leave, anyway. She fidgeted until it was time to properly leave, then flew out the door, trying to avoid contact with anyone while she went home to attempt to think this thing through from the comparative luxury of her apartment.

She almost made it. As she was nearly dashing out the front door a hand reached out and grabbed her upper arm.

"Hey you, where do you think you're going?"

"Home?" she turned and mock-glared at Mark. 

"How about a nice home-cooked meal, instead? My aunt made a double batch of lasagna… and the girls would love to see you again."

"Mmm…" she hesitated.

"Come on… pasta? Cheese? You know you want it…."

"Fine, you sweet talker. You know how to impress the ladies." She swept out the door, then waited for him to follow. They made their way through the streets at his pace, navigating the sidewalks with practiced ease.

"Just you," he said after a moment, flashing her a smile. "You're the only lady I try to impress."

"So is Effie coming?" she asked with a laugh and a quick look over her shoulder before they got too far away from work, changing the subject with practiced ease.

"No… She has a date, remember? With Kathleen, in accounting?"

"Oh, that's right. The blond one?"

"No. The brunette. Did you even listen at lunch? She was going on and on about her. Her eyes, her figure…"

"Her availability?"

"That too. Well, here's hoping it works out."

"Here's hoping. That must be why she was trying to set us up. Again."

"Was she? That was nice of her."

"One of these days, you guys are just going to have to accept that I'm already taken."

"By your mystery man?"

"Yes."

"I think he's a myth."

"Lots of people do. But he does exist."

"But doesn't visit."

"Not… yet." She sighed. "That's my fault, I'm sure. We didn't leave on amicable terms."

"And yet still you're faithful."

She grinned at Mark wryly. "If I fell for the guys who were good for me, I'd be dating you. But I'm not that smart."

"I'm still here."

"I know you are. Mark, you're one of my best friends. But that's going to be it. Until I know for sure that he wants nothing more to do with me, I'm going to be faithful."

"I just hope he's really worth it," he sighed.

"I think he is. I think. You know, I really have bad taste in men. But I can't seem to help it. Blame it on a horrid father figure."

"You blame everything on your father."

"Not everything. But he was a bit of an asshole."

"No excuse. You can move beyond whatever it was he did to you."

She shot him a sad look. "You say that as if it is an easy thing to do. You, with your beautiful family."

"We aren't beautiful."

"But you love each other. And that is very, very good."

"Of course we love each other. We're family," he said, as if the correlation should be obvious.

Anne shook her head. "You… It's great that you guys love each other. Not all families are loving. And it's a hard thing to learn, later in life, how to love."

"We love you. We'd love you more if you let us. You know the girls just adore you. My aunt thinks you'd make a great mother; you know she pesters me, asking how long it's going to take me to ask you out."

"I know. I'm sorry. But…"

"I know. You're taken by your mystery man."

"Entirely. Heart and soul."

"That's a bit pathetic."

"Some say romantic."

"Four years, and you hear nothing from him? And are still obsessed? Pathetic."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Think nothing of it. Friends get such services free."

"Wonderful. So what do I have to pay for?"

"The wine, for dinner."

"Oh. Well, we'll need to stop off and get some. I seem to have left that traveling bottle in my other jacket."

"There's the store a few blocks away from my aunt's place. We can pick a bottle up there."

"Trying to get me drunk so you can work your way upon my fair flesh?"

"Drat. You saw right through me."


	7. Warm feelings

They stopped off to get the wine, then continued the last few blocks to Mark's aunt's home. A small house, it was at the end of a quiet street, yet near enough the heart of the city for Mark to be able to walk to and from work. A very carefully tended garden graced the front of the building. A few short bushes and even shorter flowers was all it could boast, but these were lovingly watered every day, and their health glowed in the late afternoon sunlight. In the back was an equally cultivated garden, but one not quite as healthy looking as the one in the front. A well-used herb garden is inclined to look a little scraggly no matter how well tended.

A wonderful smell wafted from an open window, and Anne couldn't help but smile as it reached her. Mark smiled as well, pleased with the enjoyment he saw on her face, and with no little anticipation of the meal to come. He opened the fence gate for her, and the squeal of the hinges was the cue for two little whirlwinds to come streaming out of the house. 

"Uncle Mark, Miss Anne," they cried over and over again, clamoring for attention and hugs. Tarasa latched on to Anne's waist while Emily attacked Mark at the thigh, almost overbalancing him. He stumbled, then made a big deal of regaining his balance as Anne reached down and slipped her arms over Tarasa's shoulders. Emily squealed, dismayed by what she had caused, then giggled when she saw that Mark was only teasing her. Tarasa laughed at her sister, hands coming up to cover her mouth, but the smile in her eyes giving her away. 

Emily stuck her tongue out and ran back in the house.

"Grandma, grandma, Uncle Mark and Miss Anne are here!!" she announced, the house ringing with her glee.

"Oh, are they now," remarked Kathryn dryly, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on a towel. While her dark brown hair may have dulled a bit with the passage of years, her eyes were still merry and full of twinkle. Soft lines edged her eyes and mouth, but they were marks of laughter and a life well lived, not etched planes of bitterness or misery.

And she could not be blamed if she had been miserable. With the death of her husband while her son was still young she had to struggle for years just to keep the two of them housed and fed. But she was rewarded by being able to watch him grow into a fine young man and marry an equally fine young woman who graced her life with two lovely granddaughters before she passed on. Then came the death of her son while he was in his prime, leaving her to raise two young girls when she should have been enjoying the calmer years of her old age. No woman should have to outlive her child, but instead of growing bitter, she opened her heart and her home to the new orphans. 

She also opened her home to her nephew as he recuperated from a horrid attack that left him crippled. The same villain who killed her son left Mark bedridden for months and with a permanent limp. He stayed after he regained as much of his health as he ever would, in part because his new job supervising the plant's security forces paid less than his old one, but also because they had become a family, bonding through their grief and emerging stronger.

Anne could never enter the house without a pang of guilt. She loved Kathryn, loved how she treated her like a daughter, reveled in the simple love from the girls, and yet felt like she could never really belong. If they ever knew….

She really had to fight depression some days. She had left the ship to find herself, yet what did she do? She lied to everyone about her. She just hoped that they never had to find out the truth, any of the truths about her. Pictures of Kathryn's face when she heard the news, the looks of hatred instead of love on the girls' faces, the look of horror on Mark's when he learned that she was the one who crippled him… that she wasn't even a normal human… they plagued her on her darkest nights. 

It seemed so solid to her, this love she felt, yet so fragile at the same time. She would do everything in her power to protect these people, but she knew that if they ever found out her secrets, that this love would shrivel up and dry away. She wanted… she wished that things could stay this perfect forever, but it was only a dream. Someday Mark would find a woman who would consent to be his wife, and there wouldn't be a place for her here anymore. The girls would grow up. Tarasa was already twelve, and her teenage moodiness was only one indication of her changing personality. Emily had grown nearly a foot since Anne had first met them, and looked to be in the middle of another growth spurt.

She resolved to enjoy every minute of their company, but she could not ignore the feeling that moments like these were all too fleeting. Being a plant, she might live to see Tarasa's grandchildren, and her grandchildren's grandchildren. The thought scared her.

These feelings and thoughts lurked at the back of her mind the entire visit, and Kathryn noticed. After dinner, she pulled Anne aside, concern in the look she gave the younger-seeming woman.

"Dear, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, really."

"There's something the matter. I can see it in your eyes," she chided.

Anne smiled. "It's just… You know I love you guys. But all of this… it seems so ephemeral. Like it's a dream, and I'm going to wake up soon."

"Nonsense. You can't get rid of us that easily. You know the girls love having you visit, and I enjoy a little female company every now and again."

"I know. I think I'm just being moody."

"You're allowed. Mark says it's very stressful at work for you these days."

"Yeah."

"So how is it going?"

"The project is going good. We're testing next week, and everyone is hard at work fine-tuning the prototype."

"So what's your problem?"

Anne flashed quick smile. "I think I can make it better."

"So?"

"I can't figure out why I think that."

"I see. Frustrated genius."

"Something like that."

"Well, you keep thinking on it. I'm sure it will come to you."

"I hope so."


	8. Please mom?

The conversation shifted from there, and after just a few more minutes Anne began to make her excuses to leave. This proved to be Tarasa's cue to start whining to go visit a friend.

"But, you said, earlier, that I couldn't go to Mary's house because Miss Anne was coming," she pointed out peevishly.

"I was?" asked Anne as an aside to Mark.

"Have you ever said no?" he whispered back. She smiled and shook her head, then returned to listening to the discussion.

"Anne is leaving, so why can't I go, too?"

"Have you noticed that it is night now?" pointed out Kathryn. 

"Her mom doesn't mind if I spend the night. You know that… I want to spend the night there!"

"No. If you wanted to spend the night, we would have needed to have this discussion earlier in the day."

"But earlier you said I couldn't go because Miss Anne was coming! That's not fair!"

"Sometimes life isn't fair, dear. It's dark out now, and I'll not have you walking to her place on your own."

"Uncle Mark can go with me."

"Uncle Mark is tired," she pointed out, having noted the amount of wine that he had drunk with dinner, and correctly surmising that his leg was paining him again. 

"This sucks!" she wailed, with all the wounded dignity of the affronted teenager. "You hate me."

"I do not."

"You never let me have any fun."

"You just saw Mary three days ago."

"Four. That's ages and ages."

"I'm sorry. It's just too late." Kathryn shook her head indicating that the subject was closed. Tarasa stomped her foot and made to run from the room.

"I'll take her," volunteered Anne. "It's not too far to Mary's house, right?"

"Fifteen blocks, short ones, really quick honest honest honest," rushed out Tarasa, turning from her stomp to the doorway and moving to stand somewhere between her grandmother and Anne. She cast hopeful looks upon them both.

Kathryn turned to Anne. "You're sure you wouldn't mind? I know it's a bit out of your way."

Anne shrugged. "It's exercise. I sit behind a desk all day; I can use some."

"Well, let me call Mary's mom. No use you two walking over there to find that she can't stay."

Tarasa cheered and zipped from the room, rushing to pack an overnight bag.

Mark leaned over to Anne. "You spoil her."

"Not really. Spoiled children demand and scream and throw fits and pout and are generally obnoxious nuisances. She's still cute."

"You keep this sort of thing up and she'll just adore you."

Anne shook her head.

Kathryn got the okay only a few seconds before Tarasa ran back in the room, lugging an overstuffed bag behind her. "I'm packed!" she declared proudly.

"And you can go," affirmed her grandmother as she set the phone back in the cradle.

Anne and Tarasa made their hurried goodbyes, then all but dashed out the door and down the street. Anne slowed her pace as soon as they turned the corner, and Tarasa grudgingly matched her pace.

"Thank you," she said abruptly after a block.

"You're quite welcome."

A pause. "Why don't you marry Uncle Mark?"

"Because I love someone else."

"But you like him, right?"

"Of course I do. He's one of my best friends."

"And you like us, right?"

"I love you guys."

"So… isn't that enough?"

"For some people it is."

"But not for you?"

"I'm… a bit of a special case. See, I already have a boyfriend. I just haven't seen him for a long time."

"So how do you know he still likes you? Does he ever call?"

"No."

"Write?"

"Nope."

"Anything?"

"Not really."

"Is he still alive?"

"Yes."

"Oh. You sure?"

"Positive."

"Oh." A long pause. "I still think you and Uncle Mark should marry. Then you could live with us and never have to go back to your boring old apartment. And then I could go over to Mary's whenever I wanted."

"I'm sorry I inconvenienced you."

"It's ok. I get to go anyway. But Emily barely got to see you tonight. She likes you, too."

"I know. I'm sure I'll be back in a few days."

"Oh no!" Tarasa stopped.

"What?" Anne paused as well. "Did you forget something?"

"No, you did! You forgot to grab some leftovers!"

"Oh. Yes, I did, didn't I?"

"Now we'll be eating lasagna for a week."

"But it's good lasagna."

"Yuck. Maybe I can hide out at Mary's for awhile."

"You can try it, but I don't know how far you'll get."

"Any meal that isn't leftovers is a good meal." 

They started walking again. A few minutes later, Anne passed her off to Mary's mother at their front door. They made very idle chitchat as the girls squealed, the sort of small talk one makes with a woman one doesn't know well. After seeing Tarasa settled in, Anne said her goodbyes and left. 

The streets were nearly empty at that hour. It wasn't late, but the suns had set and the heat of the day was easing to a slight chill. Anne broke into a slight jog to get her heart beating. The streets she ran down were mostly residential, homes with happy and not-so-happy families silhouetted in the windows. She imagined living on one of these streets, a little house of her own with an equally little garden and a little family. 

She could imagine a family in a very abstract sense, but any attempt to add Knives to the daydream shattered it completely. Still, it was a happy dream. They could have a pet, too, a cat to help keep the pest population to a minimum. It would be a pretty white cat, a female, a wonderful mouser who would settle into her lap as she unwound after a day at work.

She couldn't help but laugh at herself. What a strange thing for her to want. A home, a family, for her? Who would ever have dreamed it possible? 


	9. Thinking

Anne arrived back at her apartment and turned on the lights. Tarasa was right; the place was boring. She had lived here for years, and still hadn't decorated or changed anything. The blank white walls stared back at her. What did it say about her, that she could live in one spot for so long and accumulate no clutter? 

Her keys were placed in her pocket, and the jacket slung over the back of the couch. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were her computer desk and chair. No end tables, no coffee tables, no pictures, no anything. Just bare room and walls and floor. On impulse she finally shoved the couch against the wall, opening the floor. 

It looked even worse; a big room echoingly empty. She sat down on the couch and looked out over the empty room, contemplating her life. 

She had lived here for years, and it looked like she cold pick up and move on a moment's notice. Granted… she was prepared to do that. Much as she loved her life here, hanging around Effie and Mark only brought home to her how precarious her position was here.

They both truly hated plants. Effie had been the daughter of a plant engineer, visiting her father one day, when she was taken to a bulb. The plant angel had come down to look at her, intrigued. Others noticed, and wondered what she possessed that would intrigue a plant. She was subjected to a barrage of tests, and passed before every bulb to gauge the reactions of the plants. All of them were intrigued, and Effie began to feel like a freak. The tests found nothing abnormal, but the null result didn't stop the research, but instead made it more intrusive. The rest of her immediate family was also tested, but none of them produced the same reaction in the plants. 

It took months before the scientists would admit defeat, and in that time her life was completely disrupted. Somehow word got out that she was an object of interest in plant research, and she was treated like some sort of freak for years, especially at school. Children can be cruel to the abnormal ones, and she was an easy target, a target made only easier by the added abnormality of her sexual orientation. 

So she hated the plants for making her feel different, for singling her out and making her an object of ridicule. Anne had carefully looked into a couple things, and discovered that her grandmother happened to be a cousin of Legato Bluesummers. The poor child had rudimentary mental powers, powers she mostly ignored but could not completely discount. The plants had been intrigued by their ability to hear her, but she could not return the favor, could not focus enough to make her desires to be left alone known to them. 

Sometimes Anne wondered if Effie liked her merely because she couldn't hear anything from her, not emotions or words. She'd have loved to help train her, to at least teach her how to defend her mind, but was unsure how to raise the topic. Hey, sweetie, noticed you're a bit of a freak? Want some help with that? Anne sighed. The best she could do was try to shield her when they were together, and pray that Effie wouldn't get too mad at her when she found out what she had been doing.

And Mark… she loved the guy, truly she did. As her best friend, as the guy who could manage to make her laugh no matter how badly her day might be going. Too bad he had been one of the men to go after Ace. Too bad she had killed his cousin; too bad she had crippled him. Some days, the guilt of what she had done, of what she had taken from this world almost overwhelmed her. From all accounts, his cousin had been a remarkable gentle man, loving and kind. 

And shooting at her, true. But she hadn't meant to kill him, to leave his children parentless in this harsh, cruel world. She hadn't wanted to kill him, it had been an accident, but now… she found herself wishing that she had saved him, brought him back, no matter the cost to her later. 

Poor Mark. He had lost his job. No longer able to lead the special strike force that lurked within the regular plant security forces. Instead, he was shunted off to a management position, him, who had gloried in physical movement confined by a chair and a cane. It was amazing that the man wasn't bitter over his disability, that he didn't curse fate on a daily basis. There were some days, when the pain was more than aspirin could handle, that he could get a bit snappish. But for the most part he was a very happy guy.

And he liked her. She couldn't help but try to figure out how many seconds that would take to change if he found out that she was the one that destroyed his life. And his family… they might like her now, but after finding out she had killed Kathryn's son, the girls' father? They would have every right to despise her. 

And they were not the only ones who hated plants. There was an organization, the same one that had held Ace, she surmised. Their only object seemed to be the eradication of plants, but she wasn't sure that that was truly the case. Regardless, she didn't want to get on the bad side of the organization, as it seemed to be headed by the manager of the entire plant. She did her best to ignore the group altogether, and hoped that they would return the favor.

She sighed again, then shook her head and stood up. No use contemplating the yet-to-be; she had work to do now. She padded over to the computer desk and hooked the hand unit into the power source. She had been shocked to find a handheld computer in one of the storerooms at the lab. It was missing its battery pack, but a bit of judicious digging had found her a source she could plug into city power. Someone hadn't known just what is was they were letting her take home, that was sure, but given the opportunity she wasn't about to refuse. This little toy was even better than what she had used back in her own reality; amazing, considering that it was developed at least 150 years ago.

She switched the holographic monitor on, and began her daily ritual of reading through some of the information that was stored on the hard drive. Then she pulled up her model of the problematic circuitry, and tried to figure out what wasn't quite right.


	10. Tinkering

The next day she made it to work closer to the time she was supposed to, thus forestalling anymore visits from the boss lady. She made a little progress on her task in the morning, but was still stumped. It was frustrating, knowing that there was a solution but not having any real idea what it might be. 

The problem with attempting to find non-plant sources of energy was that the sand worms were very attracted to alternating current. The prevalent theory was that it was used somehow in mating. Earlier attempts to set up wind or solar power collectors met with failure after the worms rampaged through the area, as it is hard to generate power when the ground is destroyed beneath the plant. Even building on bedrock had proved no barrier, with the worms literally crawling over iles of bare rock just to get to the source of the alternating current. Any Xenobiologists would have enjoyed studying the cause for the rampage, but the engineers threw their hands up in frustration and quit after one particularly nasty attempt that ended with the deaths of seven and the crippling of nine more. 

Plant power, being generated in the bulb, seemed to be immune to the worms' attacks. Maybe because it was a fusion process, or maybe because it was shielded in some way by the bulb itself, but the power generated by the plants did not cause the worms to rampage. That was a good thing, as the struggling survivors of the Great Fall would not have survived long had the worms attacked the remains of the ships, but it was also a puzzle that needed to be worked out. 

And over 150 years later, it was. After leaving the ship, Anne had wandered towards December. She had picked up a job waitressing, and her spare cecentos and double dollars went towards as many books as she could afford. She would wake early and stay up late, reading over what theories had been posited and printed, and trying to figure some way around the worm problem.

Finally, she seemed to have hit on it. The emitted frequency of generated power was much higher when it came from the plants. Her best guess was that it passed beyond what the worms could sense, and unknowing of the presence of the energy, they had no cause to attack. The logical answer would then be to figure out a way of imitating that frequency when generating other forms of energy. She spent another month trying to figure out how this might be achieved, then took her findings to the town plant and asked for a meeting.

They tried to kick her out the door, but she was persistent. And cute. And finally finagled a meeting with a plant engineer. He managed to concentrate on her proposal long enough to see its merit, and passed the report to his manager, who passed it to the head of research. He had been fruitlessly trying to come up with any idea, and upon reading the report, went to the head plant managers office and demanded that she be hired on the spot.

She wasn't. A whole week went by before the new department was funded. She was in on things from the beginning, however, from the scavenging for equipment to trying to overcome the obstacles of adapting earth technology to Gunsmoke standards. Effie was hired only a few weeks after Anne, and they became friends shortly after. Progress came in fits and starts, and there had been a few setbacks, but they were finally ready to unveil the new product.

And they prayed to all they held dear that the worms would not come near once they turned it on. A vacant expanse of desert had been prepared for the test, and now only awaited the arrival of the prototype.

Yes, things were finally beginning to look like they were actually working out. 

Except for this one piece… Anne scowled at her monitor. While the schematics called out specifications for this part that would still be within tolerance after the increased load, she just had a feeling that the circuitry was going to overload. But for the life of her, she could not see how she was supposed to fix it. A complex piece that was a simple as it could be, she needed to find a way to decrease the number of linkages. And she couldn't see how it would be possible. 

Here, they ran in parallel, here serial, and she could see why each type of connection had been made. It was all entirely logical and made complete sense. And was still wrong for the new application.

She fiddled with it for a bit, still finding nothing but growing tired of just staring at the monitor and doing nothing. It was a relief when Effie came in her office.

"Ugh. It's a zoo out there. You would think it's a Friday, the way they are carrying on."

"Isn't it?"

"It's a Thursday dear." She continued, "Or you would think that we were done with the prototype, and not still frantically stripping the walls for parts."

"Shouldn't you be out there playing mommy?"

"Please. I need a moment's peace before I try to deal with those fools again. Have I mentioned that I love your office?"

"One or twice. Maybe."

They bantered a bit for a couple more minutes, then were interrupted by a harsh, raw feeling of despair. Anne's head turned automatically to the right, orienting on the location of the disturbance. Effie's head turned as well, then, as she took in Anne's interest, she hazarded a question.

"Did… did you… feel that… too?" she asked shakily.

"I have to go," Anne responded quietly.

"You felt that. Tell me you felt that!" she demanded, needing some confirmation that what she had felt had been real.

"Isn't it obvious?" Anne had gone very quiet, very still, and there was something about her eyes now that frightened Effie, something very cold and inhuman.


	11. Trouble

"What was that? Do you know what that was? How did you feel it? What was it?" Effie shot off questions one after the other, not pausing long enough for Anne to have answered had she even wanted to. Instead she ignored them and turned off her monitor. 

"What are you doing? Wait a minute, where are you going?" Anne had stood up and pushed her chair back under her desk, then fiddled with the few papers she had accumulated. She pulled a half page report on her progress out of the stack, set it to the side, then carefully straightened the rest of the pile. This she placed in the dead center of her desk, then picked up the report and turned to leave.

"Where are you going?" demanded Effie, blocking the door.

"I have to go."

"Why? Where? I don't understand what's going on."

"I'm not surprised. You don't want to know what's going on. Now move, please."

"No. Tell me what just happened."

"Someone is in trouble."

"How do you know that?"

"The same way you do."

"I don't know anything."

"I don't have the time to sit and argue with you."

"I'm not moving. Tell me what is going on." Her voice nearly broke, but Anne didn't have the time that she would need to explain what had happened, assuming Effie would even listen.

"Please move." 

"No."

Anne sighed, set the report down, the turned and grabbed Effie at the waist, lifted her up, and set her down on the desk. She gaped at Anne, unable to believe that she could have possibly done such a thing, then squealed in outrage. Anne merely smiled at her sadly as she beat on the desk with her fists. 

"What the hell was that? Girl, I have questions and you will answer them."

"I don't have time."

"What is so important that you can't just explain this to me," she wailed, on the verge of tears. "You're the only person I've ever met who ever felt something like that when I did and I just want to know what that was and why I felt it and why you felt it and if you can make it go away because I hate it and it makes me feel like a freak and I just want to be normal and where are you going?"

Anne had picked up her report and left. Effie saw the door closing, scooted off the desk, and caught up with her as she was handing the report to the boss.

"There's been a bit of a family emergency, and I'm not sure when I'll make it back in. I know this is a bad time," she said.

"It's a horrible time," her boss interrupted.

"But I have to go see what I can do. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The boss sighed. "Fine. Go. Try not to take too long, but if you have to go, you have to go. It's not like you take much time off; I can hardly deny you now, can I?"

"Thanks." Anne nodded, then walked out the door, Effie following close behind.

"Where are you going now?"

"Over there," she gestured, waving her hand in the general direction the feeling had come from.

"But… that's where the plant research goes on. Went on."

"I know."

"What could possibly be there?"

"Trouble. I have a feeling it's going to be trouble."

"Fine. I'm going with you."

"Don't get in the way."

"Get in what way?"

"My way. I have a feeling things aren't going to go smoothly."

"What things."

"You'll see."

"Tell me."

"You'll see in a few minutes."

"But I want to know now."

"I'm sorry."

Effie badgered at her for a few minutes, but fell silent as they approached the empty labs. Plant research had been curtailed in favor of researching alternate sources of energy, and the rooms had a sad, somber air to them. Dust cloths covered what equipment remained after the scavenging to set up the new project. The vague shapes huddled meaninglessly on the floor, some in groups, some scattered singly over wide spaces. Near the back of the room two men stood guard outside a room.

"I'm sorry ladies," called the man on the left. "I'm afraid the lab is closed at the moment."

Anne walked slowly closer, Effie following behind.

"What are you doing, Cassius?" asked Effie.

"Oh, it's you. We caught some, uh," he shot a look at Anne, and obviously revised what he was going to say. "There were some people where they shouldn't be. We're supposed to hold them here until someone decides what to do with them."

"Oh. That's good, I guess." She and Anne had reached the guards, Anne staring at the two of them intently. Both guards looked at her a bit quizzically. The one on the right recognized her.

"Aren't you that smart lady in the ASOP lab?"

Anne nodded.

"Why are you here? Do you guys need some more machinery?" He waved at the room, indicating the shrouded figures.

"No. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to let those women go."

"Let them go? There is no way we're going to do that."

I'm sorry," she said gently, then quickly hit the man on the left in the side of the neck. He crumpled to the ground. The man on the right fumbled with the rifle in his hands, but Anne merely reached over it as he swung it around and jabbed him in the diaphragm. He doubled over as the breath was forced from his lungs, and was easy to finish off as he was straining to breathe around the temporary paralysis. She balled her hands together and hit him at the base of the skull, knocking him out and to the ground. She fished in Cassius' pockets until she found the keys to the door as Effie looked at her, dumbfounded.

"How did you _do _that," she asked as Anne tried the various keys in the door.

"Training."

"Where?"

Anne didn't respond, but pushed open the newly unlocked door. Her hand shot up and caught the arm that was descending rapidly towards her head. She opened the door the rest of the way and looked at who she had caught.

"Hello, Meryl," she said conversationally. "How have you been?"


	12. Danger

Meryl's voice broke as she tried to talk. She swallowed a couple times, then tried again. "Kiley?"

"Yes?"

"What… What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious? This is a rescue."

Effie piped up from behind her. "Who's Kiley?"

Anne ignored her, looking in the room for someone. There, back in the corner, she found her. "Hey, Ace. Long time no see."

The woman was curled up on a bench, head buried in her knees. She had grown up, but not grown very large. She might have been taller than Meryl, but if she was, it wasn't by much. It was hard to tell from the way she was huddled in on herself, but she seemed very petite. Anne dropped Meryl's arm and walked over to where Ace sat. "Girl, it's ok. Let's go."

"I'm not a girl," snarled Ace into her legs. She made no move to leave.

Anne was taken aback. "Ok, then, lady. Door's open; let's go."

"Is this a trick?"

"Um. No. No trick."

Ace uncurled, glared at Anne as she stood up, then pushed past her. "Fine. Let's get going then."

Anne scratched the back of her head, puzzled at her reaction. She looked over towards Meryl, but she had already left the room. Shrugging, she followed. Effie was checking over the men on the ground. 

"I can't believe you just hit them," she said. "I mean… they were just standing there, doing their jobs, and you knocked them out. Who are these people?"

"Friends of mine." Ace huffed. "From out of town, I think. You guys still from out of town?" she asked.

"Actually, that's rather why we're here," started Meryl. "See, the boys are still a little stuck behind that barrier you put up. Ace and I came here to find you and make you take it down."

Anne stared at Meryl, then at Ace, then back at Meryl. "You're kidding."

"Do we look like we're kidding? I've spent the last four years of my life in the ship with that… that…"

"Watch it," said Ace.

Meryl skipped finding a noun. "…and I want my husband back. Away from his brother."

"You're not serious. They haven't dropped it yet?"

"No, they haven't dropped it yet. Why do you think we came looking for you?"

Anne didn't respond for a moment, trying to comprehend the enormity of what hadn't happened. "Oh. I guess that makes sense," she said finally.

"Of course it does."

"Well… let's get going before their friends show up." Anne gently nudged one of the prone bodies with her toe. 

"Just wait a minute!" Effie stood up and stamped her foot. Anne looked at the women around her and felt like a giant. "Where are you going? Who are the boys? Who are these people, and why were they locked up? I'm sure Cassius and Bartholomew had a good reason. I mean… it's their job to look out for the plant. What were these women doing here, anyway?"

"We weren't here," said Meryl with no little degree of asperity. "We were wandering around December, minding our own business, looking for Kiley here, I'll have you know, when your friends attacked us and dragged us here and chucked us in that room."

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would they do that?"

"Because I'm a plant," snarled Ace as she paced around the room. "I want to go now, can we go now? I don't want to be here." She started to walk towards the door and the other three women followed.

"A plant? You're kidding, right?" Effie laughed nervously. "I mean… um. Why did she call you Kiley?"

"It's an old nickname."

"Really? How do you get Kiley from AnneMarie?"

"Long story."

"Why won't you tell me anything? I don't know what's going on."

"Does it look like there's time for explanations?" Anne snapped.

"But…" Effie's voice wavered, and when Anne looked, oh, yes, there was the quivering lip.

"I'll explain things later. Promise."

They reached the hall, Ace still in the lead, Meryl close behind. Anne walked near the back, but Effie lagged too much for her to properly cover the flank. 

"What did she mean, that's she a plant?"

"Pretty much what she said. She's a plant."

"What… how… where did you meet her?"

"Long story."

"You seem to have a lot of those," Effie muttered darkly.

"My life has been interesting. Very interesting."

"First I've heard of it."

"I said it's been interesting, not that I like dwelling on it." They walked on a bit, and Effie fell silent. 

"Do you know your way out?" Anne called up to Ace.

"Of course I do." Idiot, her tone implied.

Anne kept quiet, not sure how to respond. In all her wildest imaginings of how she would meet them again… this scenario certainly hadn't crossed her mind.

"You!" Anne turned and saw another guard. "It's the plant!" He fumbled with his sidearm, struggling to get it out of his holster. She turned, grabbed Effie, and ran up to Ace and Meryl. 

"Let's go, ladies. Trouble back there!"

They all began to run, Effie looking back and seeing who it was. "Josh! What are you doing?"

"Get away from them, Effie! They're dangerous!"

He finally got his gun out of the holster and aimed it at them. Effie had stopped, wrenching her wrist from Anne's grasp, and was pressed up against the wall. Anne tried to grab her again, but gave up after a second. He knew her, so he probably wouldn't shoot her.

"Stop! I'll shoot!" He ran after them, passing Effie by. The women had almost made it around the corner when he pulled the trigger.

Anne felt danger coming and knocked Ace and Meryl to the floor, landing roughly on top of them. The first three bullets went harmlessly overhead, but the next one was aimed at their new position. Time paused, held on the moment. Effie's scream, the echo of the retort in the corridor, the lazily drifting smoke form the barrel of the gun, all were imprinted indelibly on the mind. There was nowhere to run, no way to dodge. Josh's finger tightened on the trigger and he fired again, straight at the three women on the floor.

And Anne caught the bullet, feathers sprouting from her left arm as she tried to protect those who were dear to her.


	13. Discovery

He fired twice more, with the same result, Anne catching the bullets before they could harm anyone. As the hammer clicked on an empty chamber, she stood, in what seemed to her to be a very slow fashion, and then turned, looking at the man who had just tried to kill her.

It was suddenly hard to take the world seriously. Feathers had just sprouted from her arm. Feathers, and her arm. The concept was entirely too much for her to comprehend. She had wondered how the whole angel arm thing worked. Apparently, it was instinctive. She wondered if she could do it again. Probably. More contemplation needed.

She prided herself on her clear observational skills, then took a step towards the suddenly pale guard. She could watch his hand shake back and forth as he held the gun, the barrel wavering slightly as he panicked. The soft click of hammer on empty chamber sounded once, twice, then Anne was on him, punching him in the diaphragm and the back the head, employing the same move just because it seemed appropriate. And so easy… he never had a chance to block. His eyes seemed unable to track her as she moved towards him, he seemed barely able to start to react to her presence before she dropped him.

It took forever for him to fall to the floor. She watched him fall, and wondered why gravity seemed to be working differently now. She had plenty of time to look at her arm, amazed. It was back to normal, but her sleeve was shot, torn to hell and gone. Damn, and she had liked this shirt, too. It was soft and comfortable and warm and a pretty shade of green.

Maybe she could fix it. She looked at the tatters a little more closely. A little thread, some time… no, it was toast. Damn.

The man was still falling. What had Effie called him? Josh? She dimly remembered seeing him around. He was another one of those plant hating people. She knew that, knew he was in their group. Whatever their group was. She hadn't really cared, been much too focused on her own work. Besides, she wasn't really a plant, was she?

Oh, yeah. Guess she was. 

Josh finally hit the floor, and Anne lifted her eyes from his fall, searching for her friend. Effie's eyes were wide in her too-pale face, her mouth open but lungs too shocked to scream. Anne walked a pace towards her, and she hastily backed up. 

"Freak," hissed out of her throat. "You, you're one of them," she accused, hatred dripping from the words she managed to force our, then turned and ran.

Dimly Anne heard her start to scream, but her mind was frozen. Freak. Oh, yeah, guess she was. No point denying it anymore. Cat was definitely out of the bag, milk was spilt, glass was broken, it was over. Done. Her shoulders slumped with the defeat. 

Then her mind began to work again. She squared her shoulders and turned back to Meryl and Ace. Both were looking at her with identical gazes of shock and surprise.

"I thought… I thought you were a Genalt," managed Meryl.

"So did I, for awhile."

"But, you… you're…"

"I was told that it was more convenient for me to be a plant."

"Told?"

"Is this the place or the time to be having this conversation?" she asked as she walked back towards them. She offered a hand up to both of them, Meryl taking it, Ace glaring at it, and then at her before getting up on her own. 

"No. I guess it can wait. But… does Knives know?"

"No. Why should he?"

"Well, he… and you…"

"He's a racist pig. I'm not about to make that easy for him."

"Um." Meryl was at a loss for words.

"Let's go, ladies," Anne said, shooing the two ahead of her. "These people aren't playing around."

They turned and made their way to the garage. The plant owned fleet greeted them, vehicles parked in neat rows, the ceiling arching high overhead. Lights hung round the roof illuminated the entire cavern, shadows diminished under the halogen glow.

Meryl climbed into the first vehicle, Ace jumping over the hood to take the passenger side. Anne stopped outside Meryl's door.

"What are you waiting for, Kiley? Let's go!"

"You guys go. I'm not running."

"What? Are you insane? Those people want to kill us!"

"I know. I'll cover your escape."

"But we need you. That damn barrier is still up!"

"Oh, yes. That." Anne licked her thumb, reached into the car, and pressed to Meryl's temple. She quickly accessed her memories, picking up what Meryl knew to have been tried. "Oh," she said after a moment.

"What does that mean?"

"I can't believe you guys didn't know that."

"Know what?"

"You just needed to say the catch phrase."

"What?"

"Girls rule."

"I'm not following."

Anne pressed her thumb to her temple again, this time passing on information. "Have them do this, and make sure they say the catch phrase."

"Now get in the car," Meryl commanded.

"No. You guys get going." A few shouts could be dimly heard, echoing through the corridor they had just left. "We don't have time to argue."

"Leave her," said Ace.

Meryl looked at the two of them, then growled as she turned the engine over. "Fine. It's your funeral."

"I hope not," Anne said calmly. 

The car roared out of the parking space and towards the open doors. Guards entered the room and a few well-trained members actually drew and started shooting.

This wouldn't do. Anne thought about taking her shirt off, to keep it from getting destroyed, but figured that would be pointless. 

She drew on that part of herself that she tried so hard to ignore, feathers sprouting from both arms as she drew their attention.

"Hello boys," she called out. "Want to play?"


	14. Destruction

A couple of them saw her. One fell back a few paces, nearly running from the room. The other pulled his gun and started to fire in her direction. She caught the bullets easily, then casually let them fall to the floor. The rest turned when the second man began to fire, saw her, and opened up as well.

"Well, the diversion part is working out rather nicely," she thought to herself as she ducked behind a car. Bullets whizzed overhead, and she could hear the sounds of the bullets impacting the other side of the car through her back. She sat there for a minute, not sure what to do now that she had their attention. 

She wished that she had managed to get a little more sleep last night. She was obviously tired, moving in slow motion, not prepared for this at all. She sighed, then rolled to the front of the car and stood, arms outstretched, hands posed. Index fingers and thumbs were mated to make a diamond, and the rest of her fingers were held as if she were grabbing the circumference of a ball almost too large for them to hold.

Balls of light came streaming forth, all of one color, a sickly orange-green hue. They were bright enough to cast shadows, even in the well-illuminated garage, and she sent them towards the men shooting at her. 

They drifted in a lazy fashion, mostly in a plane but not in a very straight line. A few bullets were sent towards them, but had no effect, the metal slug passing through without changing them in the least. A couple men broke and ran for a door when they grew nearer, fearing whatever they might bring.

As they got closer to the men, Anne made them pulse, a slow strobe that grew faster with the decreasing distance. Looking at what she was doing made her a bit queasy, the swirling colors reminding her of oil on water, but without any of the rainbows. 

One finally reached a man, touched him, enveloped him. He had enough time to say, "Hey, this isn't anything!" before Anne shocked him, pulling static from the air and pushing it through his body. His hair stood on end, then he screamed, one long, loud, tortured sound before collapsing to the floor.

Four more men ran for the door, two dropping their guns in their desire to not be seen as a threat. One man aimed at her head, and she sent one of the globes over to him. His knees knocked a bit, but his aim never wavered as he shot a full clip at her. She caught them all, then tossed them at his prone form. The second globe had reached him as the last bullet left the chamber. 

Another man left. 

The rest didn't seem to quite know what to do. Bullets weren't working, but no one wanted to get near her to try anything else. There was some discussion, mostly involving hand-waving and vehement denials, and Anne moved up onto the hood of the car, sitting cross-legged as she took out one of the men in the middle of the group.

It was almost fun watching them back up, quickly putting as much distance between the thrashing man and themselves as possible. She picked off another one, then another, and watched the ones who were left begin an almost orderly withdrawal to the door. 

Pushing off the hood of the car, she wandered over to one of the men. She glared at the few huddled in the door for their bad form, for leaving their wounded behind. Of course, the fact that they were still covered by the sickly orange glow might have had something to do with it, but still. Very bad form.

"Stay away from him, you monster," was screamed from the door. She ignored the advice, just as she ignored the bullets sent her way. She did grab one right before it hit the man on the floor in front of her. That got her to look over her shoulder and glare. 

She reached a hand down into the glow and rested it on the man's forehead. Good; there had been no damage done. The light couldn't have hurt him at all, the static only startled him, and the unconsciousness… that was her doing as well. Three things, none connected, but the fear…

She stood and looked towards the door again. If her aim was to scare them, she had succeeded. But it wasn't. Her aim was to keep them occupied, to keep them away from Meryl and Ace. With that in mind, she stood and walked back to the vehicles. She leaned over and started to flatten as many tires as she could, twisting off the cap and letting the air hiss out. 

She could have just popped them, but tires were hard to come by, there being few rubber trees on this planet. And the vehicles were needed for routine plant maintenance. Destroying them would be pointless. This should slow them enough.

"Dammit, Anne," echoed through the garage. 

She stood up, wiping the dirt on her hands down the front of her shirt and pulling the ugly lights closer to her.

"Yes, Mark?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He limped closer, then stopped a few feet from her.

"Providing a distraction."

"This is one hell of a distraction. Did you kill them?"

"No."

"What the hell are you?"

She sighed. "I would think that's obvious."

"I want to hear you say it."

She looked at him, silent.

"Say it!" he screamed.

She said nothing, unable to. 

He walked closer and grabbed the collar of her shirt.

"Say it," he demanded, glaring, staring into her eyes..

She swallowed, opened her mouth, closed it, swallowed again. "I'm the one who killed your cousin," she said softly, finally. She didn't drop her gaze, knowing that having to see the hurt in his eyes was only a small part of what she deserved. But her heart still twisted, and she made no move to block the cane that smashed on the side of her head, then knocked her out after only a few more minutes. 

The orange lights faded as she did, but Mark kept pummeling her long after they went out.


	15. Conversation

Ace finished up the last leg of the drive back to Knives' ship. The night was over halfway finished when she finally parked the car, the soft ticking of the cooling engine the only sounds in the quiet night. The stars seemed dimmer here then they had on the majority of the trip; the lights from the ship taking over the glory of the skies. The moons stretched across the sky like a belt, bisecting the atmosphere. It was very pretty, and she took a moment to appreciate the sight.

She didn't bother to wake Meryl, but slowly unbuckled her seatbelt and straightened up, stretching as she opened the door and climbed down from the car. Her hands reached towards the sky, arms flung back and back arched as she worked the stress of night driving from her spine. She rolled her shoulders, then dropped her right arm. Her left stayed high in the air, and with a bored air, she made a grabbing motion, and as she pulled her hand down, said, "Girls rule."

She could feel nothing different, but the barrier seemed to be gone. That almost sensed energy wave that had tickled at the back of her mind for so many years was finally dispersed. She hoped. 

She yawned and walked towards the door. Palming it open, she accidentally woke Vash. He had been sleeping all curled up on a chair, obviously waiting for them to return. From the looks of him, he had waited there a while, the dark circles under his eyes dulling the normal piercing green of his gaze.. His eyes focused on her blearily as his mind rose from unconsciousness. "Ace?"

"Meryl's in the car. Barrier is gone."

"N' Kiley?"

Ace kept walking and pretended she didn't hear the last question. Vash looked after her, then shrugged and went to collect his wife.

She headed towards Knives' room, her legs taking her there without her mind having to direct them. She yawned a few times on the way, the drive having taken much out of her. It was hard to go slow when she finally had the key that would unlock the cage that bitch had put around them, but it was impossible to drive too fast after the suns had set. The lights on the car only illuminated so much, and as good as her reflexes might be, she knew that hitting a rock or taking out the undercarriage would be much more time consuming then driving slower.

But she still had to force herself to drive slowly. 

Upon reaching his room, she pressed the door chime. And waited. After a couple minutes, the door slid open and she walked through.

"Knives, it's just me." She sat down at the foot of his bed.

He dropped the pretense of reading. "Is she here?"

"No. She decided not to come back." 

"But you found her?"

"Yeah."

"And the barrier?"

"Is down."

He slumped in his chair. "Oh, thank goodness. What were we missing?"

"A catch phrase."

"Keyword activated? Oh, I can see… I can see where that would be the case. Did you have a good trip? Find her easily?"

"No. We were wandering around December when Meryl and I were attacked. Jumped, as we were leaving our hotel room."

"Why?"

"It was those… humans… who had me when I was younger. I can only assume that they wanted to pick up where they had left off."

"The same humans? That indicates a more coherent organization than we had presumed existed."

"I know. Kiley works for them."

His eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, she came to the cell and the people who worked there knew her. Oh, and she's Anne, now. And she's fat."

"Really. She came to where you were confined? What did she say?"

"Not much. She did get us out of there, though. Nothing spectacular, just got the doors open and sent us on our way."

Knives stood up and moved to sit by her on the bed, draping one arm over her shoulders and holding her close. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I… I don't know." Her voice quavered. "It was… I thought I was past that. But they stuck me in that room again, and all I could see was what they did to me before, the needles and the pain and the terror. Even having Meryl there didn't really help, but it was all that kept me from exploding."

"You know how to take care of yourself now. They shouldn't have been able to keep you."

"I know, I know. But they caught us unaware, knocked us out before I knew to fight, then when I woke up in that room… I lost it. I forgot everything, was just wrapped up in fear. I was worthless."

"But you're all right now." He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then a more lingering one on her lips as she lifted her chin.

Anything more was interrupted by his brother's entrance, Meryl close behind.

"Did you hear what happened to them?" He seemed outraged and upset, agitated and jumpy. 

"Ace told me."

"Did you hear about Kiley? We have to go rescue her!"

"What?" He straightened up a bit. "Why?"

"Because she stayed behind! She was the diversion!"

"What diversion?" He dropped his arm from Ace's shoulder and looked at her.

"Oh. Well, they didn't let us go that easily."

"They were shooting at us, Ace," said Meryl. "That's one of the definitions of a not easy situation."

"Nothing spectacular?" he shot at Ace. She colored. He directed his next statement to Meryl again. "And she stayed behind? Why?"

"To make sure we got clear. Even though she knew they would capture her. I tried to get her to come with us, but we didn't really have time to argue. And she can be stubborn."

"She stayed behind? Knowing what sort of trouble she'd get into?" Knives asked Meryl.

"Well, yeah, I guess."

"Then why should we care what happens to her?"

Vash looked at his brother, very puzzled. "Did Ace… not tell you that she's a plant?


	16. Consultation

Ace coughed and flopped back onto the bed. "Who cares what she is? She left; she isn't coming back. Good riddance."

Knives stood up. "Barrier down?"

Vash nodded.

"Fine. We leave in the morning."

"Ok."

"Wait!" Ace sat back up. "You're just going? Like that?"

"We would rescue you."

"So? I'm special. She's just… she's… Why rescue her?" Ace scowled at Knives.

"I want answers." He walked over to his dresser and opened the top drawer, took out his gun and placed it on the table next to him.

"Why? Who cares why she left? It was her stupid decision. I mean, I understand trying to find her to take down that barrier thing, but even then she didn't want to come back. It was her decision to stay behind; let her stay."

Vash left the doorframe and entered the room. "Ace, grow up. It might have been her decision to stay behind, but it's our decision to go rescue her or not."

"Not," she muttered.

"Well, that's your decision. Have fun in the ship by yourself."

"What? Meryl and Alex are going?"

"If we're going to December, Meryl, Alex, and I are going to go visit Millie. She hasn't seen him, and I'm sure she'd like to. Plus, she's our friend, and it's good to visit with friends."

"I guess." She sighed and flopped back on the bed again. "I guess I'll go, too. But don't expect me to help you rescue that woman."

"That's your decision."

"Absolutely." She kicked off her shoes and curled up in a ball on Knives' bed. 

Meryl entered and sat beside her, one hand brushing through the short blonde hair. "It'll be okay, kitten. No one is going to get hurt." She shot a pointed look at her husband.

"I think Knives and I will be able to handle anything they throw at us."

"You don't have to come along, Vash," said Knives, grabbing a bag out of the bottom drawer of his dresser and shoving clothes in. "Just go visit Millie."

"I'm not letting you go into a situation like that on your own."

"Afraid I'll start killing the humans?"

"No. I'm just going along to guard your back. It only takes one shot and you're worthless."

Knives glared at him. "Fine. But," he directed at Meryl, "if he gets hurt it is not my fault."

"Fair enough. He's had more practice at the rescue business than you, anyway. You might want him along to learn a few pointers. You are, however, not allowed to take Alex."

"Wouldn't dream of it." A pause. "You are the one who has to tell him he can't come with us."

"That's part of my role as a mother. She who decrees where one cannot go.":

Knives rummaged in the top drawer for more ammo. "Since I'm planning on leaving rather early, you two might want to go pack and get some rest."

Meryl stood up, grabbed her husbands hand, and took him from the room. He waved goodbye as he left, but was too lost in thought to say anything. 

Knives continued to pack, and Ace continued to pretend to be asleep. He opened another drawer and fingered the blue silk shirt found inside. Then he closed the drawer, leaving it behind.

The now-full bag was tossed on a chair, and he sat by Ace, taking the position Meryl had vacated, stroking her hair. She leaned into the motion, opening her eyes to stare at him, her half-lidded gaze unreadable. 

"You would leave her there."

"She left us here. Let her rot."

"I had hoped… that seeing her might lessen this anger you carry."

"I hate her. I hate that she had you first. I hate that she left. I hate that she felt she could do whatever she wanted, to lock us all up in here. Like we would have followed her, like we wanted her around or something."

"At the time, we did."

"I still hate her."

He fell silent for a couple minutes. "You didn't say that she was a plant."

"So? What difference does it make?"

"I protect my own."

"She doesn't want your protection. She doesn't want anything to do with any of us. I don't know why you guys keep trying to act like she's this great person. She locked you here and left, too much of a coward to even give a proper goodbye." She turned over, putting her back to Knives. "Just a stupid letter."

"She did do that, and I agree that it was not the best of ways to depart. But that's no reasons to leave her in the hands of our enemies."

"She works with them," she growled, turning over and glaring at him. "They know her. It's not likely they're going to kill her. She's a person to them. I was just a… a… thing."

"Are you willing to risk her life on that assessment?"

"Yes. Who cares if she lives, anyway? Bitch."

"I care. I told you, I want answers from her."

"Fine." She got off the bed and picked up her shoes. "I'm going to go pack."

"Get some sleep," he advised. "I want to leave by seven."

"Seven? I've been driving all night!"

"And it will take all day to get back. You can sleep in the car."

"Fine. Everything revolves around that woman. Fat woman," she muttered as she left his room.

Knives shook his head, then turned off the light on his desk. He picked up the book he had been reading and slipped it on the shelf, then ran his fingers over the spines of his collection. He wondered when he would see them again, wondered what awaited them in December. Why had Kiley not come back? Why had she stayed behind? Why hadn't she told him she was a plant? Had she lied about the whole Genalt thing? Was she working for the people who had held Ace the entire time, or was she a player for yet another team?

Had she missed him as much as he had missed her?


	17. Convoy

Dawn came very early the next morning, or at least it felt that way after the late night. Alex was found sleeping in the back of the car, packed and ready to go without any need for prompting. A still-sleeping Meryl was brought out cradled in Vash's arms and gently placed in the back seat. He slid in next to her and arranged her sleeping form until she rested her head on his shoulder. Knives strode purposefully out of the ship a few minutes later. He nearly tossed his bag in the back of the car, but refrained when he realized his nephew was there. Vash offered to take his bag, and propped it on the seat next to him. Knives sat in the driver's seat, and they proceeded to wait for Ace to arrive.

And wait. 

And wait. 

Finally, Knives grew tired of the game and started the car. Slowly, he turned it around, and grew ready to drive it down the road. Ace came running out, bag still open, a shirt flopping about as she flew towards the vehicle.

"Can't you wait?" she asked crossly as she got in the car. She shoved the shirt in the bag and handed it back to Vash. He took it, placed it next to Knives', then closed his eyes to take a nap.

"We did."

"You could have waited a little longer. I was up half the night driving; I'm a little more tired then anyone else here," she whined. 

"You can sleep in the car."

"Gee, thanks. What's your problem?"

"I said we leave in the morning."

"Well, it's morning still, isn't it?"

"Every minute we waste here is one more until I get some answers."

She sighed. "Fine. You and your answers." She crossed her arms. "I don't see why you care."

"Unlike you, I don't seem to hate her."

"I don't see why you don't. She left us. Fine. I can handle that. But I don't see why she expects us to drop everything to go save her sorry butt, just because she got into a little trouble."

"I don't think she expects us to show up. Especially not as a group," he added with a glance to the backseat. 

"Well, I'm not showing up. I just don't want to be left by myself in the ship."

"I noticed."

She looked at him pointedly. "I think you are taking this whole thing pretty calmly."

"What whole thing?" he asked mildly.

"The whole, finally being able to leave the ship thing. The whole, that woman is a plant thing."

"I don't know how calm I am. We're rushing out to get some answers, aren't we?"

"You may be. I'm just on another road trip."

They fell silent for iles. The desert passed in a sad precession of similar images, rocks, sand, more rocks, more sand, and the occasional dilapidated town. They drove without stopping, Meryl and Vash still sleeping, Alex keeping quiet in the back, and Ace sulking.

"I knew we were going to do this," she said after a bit. 

"Do what?" Knives prompted after a few minutes without any explanation.

"Go rushing to that woman after the barrier came down."

"She is in a bit of trouble," he pointed out.

"Whatever. I knew that as soon as you could, you'd be rushing to her side. Wanting to know why she left, wanting to know if she would come back. Even if she wasn't a plant."

"Is that why you didn't say anything?"

"Maybe. Yes. I don't want to see her. Seeing her just makes me want to strangle her. You want answers? You want to know why she left? I just don't care. She left. We dealt with it. Why try to drag her back in our lives now? She could have come back at any time if she really wanted to, if she wanted anything to do with us."

"So you think. What if the people who captured you have some sort of hold on her?"

"Like what? She's likely working for them. Betraying us, too, I'll bet. Probably locked us up so they would know where to find us. And kill us." She scowled at the desert. "Damn humans."

"That's one option. There are many things she could have done. I want to know exactly what kept her away."

"Whatever."

"You obviously don't care. But that doesn't mean that I don't."

"You're just being a fool. I bet when you go to rescue her that you walk into a trap."

"Then you'll come rescue us. You and Alex."

"That pacifist? I'd be lucky to pull him away from studying the differences between two grains of sand." She scowled out the window. "You'd better not get caught."

"I doubt we will. The humans will have no clue how to stop us."

"As long as they don't gas you. You can't do much when you're unconscious."

"We'll be careful."

"You'd better." A pause. "If you do get caught, I'm only rescuing you. Not her."

"That's your choice."

"You don't care?"

"Well, I'd go back in to get her out. But you don't have to."

She scowled again. "When did you start taking life so calmly? What happened to the guy who crashed through Millie's window when he heard I was a plant?"

Knives glanced over at her. "If you must know, right now I am having a hard time keeping this vehicle to a safe speed. I want to be in December, right now, interrogating Kiley until I know every last one of her secrets, every last little thing she's kept from me, every reason she has for not telling me, everything. But if I crash, it will take me even longer. I may look calm, but look," he held out his right hand and let her see how it shook, then made a fist. "She has a lot she needs to answer for. Soon, she will be answering to me." 


	18. Discussion

Mark limped into the observation center early in the morning, scowling at everyone whose gaze he could capture. Last night had been hard. Not only had he had to deal with the afternoon's revelation, but his aunt had asked what was wrong and he had to tell her just what sort of person Anne really was. Watching his friendly aunt's face harden with hatred hurt almost as much as the betrayal.

He just could not get past the fact that she had the gall to kill his cousin, cripple him, and then turn around and try to be his friend. Had she no shame? Did she think she would never get found out? Did she think that no one would care? Plants were born sociopaths, twisting the people around them like toys. He had been told that, had known it on an intellectual level, but seeing it for real, being one of the people she had played with still hit him hard in the gut. He caught himself clenching and unclenching his free hand, shaking with the need to hit something.

"Good morning, Mark," his boss greeted him, turning from the monitor to look at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll live."

"Good to hear, good to hear." He indicated the monitor. "It's been entirely inactive after awaking. Just sitting there, staring."

"That's nice."

"I must say, it's a bit puzzling. You were friends with this thing for how many years? And you never knew it's true nature? A bit inobservant of you."

"They are masters of deceit, sir."

"And you were trained to see beyond that."

"Respectfully, sir, so were you. But you hired her."

"True. And it has been a good worker. Not what you would expect from a plant."

"No sir."

"But still, it's a puzzle. To have been so close to her, and not even recognized her? The thing that did that to you," he waved at the cane, "and killed your cousin?"

"She has put on a bit of weight. She was skinnier than a boy when we were in the desert, and her hair was both shorter and darker. Now she's more," his hands indicated a curvaceous shape, "and she's nearly a blonde."

"But not entirely blonde, which is a bit of a puzzle. Plants are blondes; do you think it dies its hair?"

"She has no hair dye at her place."

"Ah yes. Her place. We have a team over there, looking it over, but you've been there. Anything that ever struck you as odd?"

"Nothing more than her lack of what one would call personal items. No pictures, no letters, no clutter. It's very neat, very simple. I would venture that it isn't a place she thinks of as home. She does tend to spend a lot of time here at work."

"Plants are very single minded. It was bred into them; it's no surprise it spent the majority of its time near its focus."

"But we could tear her away from work fairly easily, and she does have other interests, outside of work. Not what fits the profile."

"Other interests?"

"She sings, semi-professionally, in a blues band. Technically, she's not that precise, but she does a very good job of emoting. She could never make a living singing, and she knows that, but it's a fun hobby for her."

"Something as artistic as singing? That isn't in the profile."

"No sir, it's not. But it is her hobby."

"Interesting." He turned to look at the monitor. "It isn't being very entertaining at the moment though. Maybe we should go… prompt it to sing for us."

Mark kept silent, but moved to a place where he could see the monitor. Anne was sitting in the corner farthest from the door, arms wrapped tight around her knees, eyes staring sightlessly forward. A large bruise marred her face, the dull black traveling from temple to chin, a straight line. There were other marks, black and red and purple all over her body. Her left eye was bloodshot, both eyes red-rimmed. The tatters of her shirt barely covered her decently, but her legs were tight enough to her chest that the rents didn't matter. Her knuckles were white where they grasped her elbows, and her jaw was firmly set. 

Mark fingered the head of his cane and smiled mirthlessly. He hoped to be send in to prompt her, but didn't ask. His boss knew how much this bitch owed him. Anything he said at this point would just be seen as whining.

"What did you tell your aunt?" The question wasn't entirely idle. The circle of people who knew that plants walked the surface of Gunsmoke was, by necessity, very small. If more people knew, you might get the soft-headed idiots agitating that plants were people, too, and deserved to live. Just one look at what she had done yesterday disproved that theory. Plants were dangerous, born dangerous, without conscience, feelings, or anything other than the drive to destroy. They were eerily intelligent, and could mimic human emotions in a fashion that could delude the simple-minded. Simply put, they were too powerful to be allowed to live. 

"Only that she was one of the bandits that we had been sent out after, and that she was the one who had killed him. Nothing about her being a plant." It hurt a bit to be lying to his aunt, but that was her fault, too. If she hadn't misled them in the first place, he wouldn't have had to lie in turn.

"Good." The room was quiet for a few more minutes. "I think I shall send you in first. But… don't hit it. Let's see how far being it's friend can get us first."

Mark smiled grimly, his grip shifting slightly on his cane. He might walk in as a friend, but he would not be walking out again without having a bit more fun.


	19. Discomfort

The door slid open with a soft hiss, but Anne did not respond. Her gaze remained affixed on some point on the wall, not wavering an iota as he limped closer. Mark's cane thumped on the floor, and he made a point to amplify the sound a bit, just to drive home the fact that he knew now just who was responsible for it. But if she heard it, she gave no sign. 

He crouched down by her, grimacing slightly as tight muscles in his thigh protested the motion. His knees popped as he shifted about by her. The cane was placed by his right knee, laid down in a sliding motion that created a grating sound.

And still she gave no indication that she was aware of his presence. He waved his hand in front of her face, trying to break her gaze, without result. He snapped his fingers a few times, then clapped his hands loudly, and still she stared. 

He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. "Hello, Anne." Nothing. "Are you ok?" No response. "How are you feeling?" Still nothing. "I'm going to kill you, bitch, and enjoy the time it takes me." Same result.

He leaned back on his heels and looked at her. The bruises made it difficult to tell, but he thought she might be a little paler than usual. Her breathing was shallow and quick, barely moving her chest as she inhaled and exhaled. But aside from those clues, she looked entirely normal. Except for the unresponsiveness, she looked much like she did with a hangover, or after pulling an all-nighter at work. 

The unresponsiveness, and… His eyes narrowed as he saw something, or thought he saw something… He reached out one hand to check, touching her lightly on one shoulder.

She responded to his touch, eyes snapping into focus, a small whimper forced from her throat before she realized who was in the room with her. Then she turned her whole body to the left, doing her best to bury herself in the corner. Mark pulled his hand back and balled it into a fist, rubbing his fingertips into his palm to erase the feel of her, but oddly pleased with what he had found out. She was shaking.

Barely shaking, to be sure. You could hardly see it, but even a soft touch and he could feel the skin of her body crawl. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, aching to hear the sarcasm.

She stayed silent.

"You might as well talk. You can talk to me, or to some of our less… personable friends, but you will end up telling all before you die."

She stayed silent, the only indication that she had heard his words an obvious shiver that rolled over her.

"I know I have some personal question I'd like answered, like, why me? Why, out of all the people you could have chosen to lie to, to try to get close to, why did you choose me?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered into her knees, barely audible. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"You did a damn fine job of that in the desert. And you did more than just hurt Kevin; he's dead. You killed him, then waltzed into our lives and pretended like you were better than the murderer you are."

"I didn't mean to kill him."

"One shot. Straight through the heart. And you say that was an accident? There aren't many… humans… who can shoot that well at a moving target. And you expect me to believe that you couldn't hit what you were aiming at, and accidentally killed him instead?" Scorn dripped from his voice.

She sighed. "The truth is the truth, whether you believe it or not."

"The truth is you killed him! And crippled me, and then decided that you hadn't done enough to screw up our lives, and tried to make friends with his orphaned children and grieving mother. What sort of monster are you, to think that we would want anything to do with you? Even if you weren't a plant?"

"I'm sorry," she said a little louder. "I can't help being a plant. And I didn't mean to, I mean, I didn't set out to try to be a part of your lives. But how was I supposed to say no? I mean, Effie said that she knew this great guy, and then you took me over to meet your aunt, and then you were all so wonderful and I didn't want to say no, I can't get to know all of you, it's wrong, even if I could have figured out a way to. And no I didn't kill Kevin on purpose, but if I had it all to do over again I don't think I'd have done anything different because I was going to protect Ace and you guys attacked me and I don't know why I'm supposed to feel guilty because I didn't let you take her. But I do feel guilty, and I'm incredibly sorry and I don't know what I'm supposed to do now, or say now to make things better. It's not like I can bring him back to life, or fix your leg, or…" She stopped speaking and turned to look at him.

"Or?" he prompted, before seeing the calculating look in her eyes. "What?" He backed up a bit as she uncurled and stood up, sliding her back along the wall until she reached her feet. "What are you thinking?" He followed her gaze to the door. "You are still locked in here," he said as she staggered towards the opposite side of the room. 

"I know," she said as she looked at the door panel. "I'm not planning on opening it. I want to keep it closed."

"What?" he asked, but was interrupted by the sound of her hitting and somehow puncturing the panel. 

"There," she said, turning towards him, shaking her hand by her side. "Now you're stuck in here with me." Her expression was simple, the delivery of the statement matter of fact, but the sinister impression was ruined by her falling to her knees when she tried to take a step.


	20. Dissection

Mark looked at her, shaking his head as she brought one hand up to massage her temple. "Somehow, being stuck in a room with you at the moment isn't a scary thought."

"Shows what you know," she said dryly. "I don't need to be able to kick your ass to, uh, kick your ass. Ugh." She sat down hard, legs folded beneath her, other hand brought up to hold her head on. "I think I'm going to puke," she said calmly.

Mark backed a little farther away. "Don't get any on me."

She swallowed hard a couple times, trying to control the dictates of her angry stomach. "Next time, try to not hit my head so hard. You nearly killed me. And I still feel like shit."

"Good." He picked up his cane and stood up. He walked around her and looked at the door, then sighed. "I can't believe I'm stuck in here with you. Oh, well." He turned and lifted his cane high, bringing it down hard on her back. "I'm sure I can find something to do to pass the time."

"Dammit," she said, lifting he head from the floor and wiping blood from where her lip had split open again. "Didn't you get that out of your system?" she groused as she tried to crawl out of the way.

"Considering the pain you've cost me, I think I can do this for awhile." He hit her across the backs of her thighs, throwing her to the ground. 

"Ow." She gingerly turned over and glared at him. "Some friend… you turned out to be," she panted through clenched teeth. 

The cane came down again, and she reached out and grabbed it, tendons straining in her wrist as she kept it from hitting her. Mark's knuckles were white as he tried to break her grip, twisting the cane this way and that, but she refused to let go. Finally, with a loud crack that echoed in the small room, the cane broke. 

"Hey," he said, surprised and annoyed. "I need that."

"No. You won't." 

He looked at her, puzzled as she scooted back until she was near the wall, then leveraged herself to her feet. "I've been wanting… to do this… for years," she forced out. 

"Do what?" He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as she licked her thumb. 

"This," she said, taking a step away from the wall. Her knees crumbled beneath her, but she did manage to swipe her thumb against his temple. His eyes lots focus and they fell together, landing in a tangle of limbs. 

Anne disentangled herself from his sleeping form then tried to catch her breath. "Thanks for not hitting my head this time," she said sarcastically to his prone form. She tried to get him to lay comfortably on the floor, arranging his limbs in something resembling a natural posture, but moving hurt too much for her to do a very good job of it. 

After a few minutes she gave up and just sat back, panting slightly from the exertion, and the continued nausea. She swayed in time with her pulse, too tired to try to keep herself stable, and she wondered if she was going to be able to do this. She looked at her shaking hands and tried to calm them. 

She could do this. She could. Slowly, slowly she stilled the tremors, drawing upon her last reservoir of strength. The fear she felt receded, the pain was pushed out of her mind as she marshaled the last of her reserves. Finally feeling prepared, she moved to kneel by his waist, and then unfastened his belt. She pulled down his pants and took a good look at the mass of scar tissue on his inner thigh.

"Shhhh," she whispered, an exhalation more than a comment. "Either medical care on this planet is much more primitive than I assumed, or you, Mark, tried to do too much while you were still healing." The muscle had been sliced, but her cuts had been clean and shouldn't have produced the tearing that she saw here. She closed her eyes and looked at the fibers of the muscles themselves, noting the small tears along the edges of the scar. 

"Hmm." She looked at her hand and tried to not cringe as she forced her fingers into blades. She swallowed hard as she looked at her hand, but couldn't deny that it was going to be helpful. She controlled the sharpness, and carefully moved the matter of her hand about until the blades were sharp enough to cut the air, a single molecule along the edge of the cutting surface.

Then she turned and carefully made an incision along the edge of the scar tissue, moving slowly, cutting out the scar but leaving the rest of the flesh intact. There were a couple places where this was tricky, where the scar tissue hid under healthy muscle, but she cautiously worked it all out, slicing out a piece and setting it on the floor beside her.

When this was done, she gratefully let her hand return to its normal state, not looking at it as it changed, then shaking it a few times after it felt right to make sure everything was as it should be. Then she moved both hands to cover the wound and started to mend the rent fibers. 

Starting from the innermost edge she coaxed cell growth, pulling the severed ends together and merging them. Sweat began to form on her brow, and she paused a moment to wipe at it with the back of her hand. Her fingers were only lightly touched with blood, as she had pinched off the capillaries and kept the blood from oozing through the ends as she worked. 

After nearly an hour, she finished, smoothing the fresh skin over where the scar had lain, pleased with the work she had done. She wiped the gore from her fingers, then ripped off a piece of her shirt and picked up the pieces of tissue and wrapped them. Then she flopped backwards and lay there, staring exhaustedly at the ceiling, until fatigue overcame her and she passed out.


	21. Deviltry

Does anyone miss the author's notes? I can put some in if you'd like… I always have some random comments. Like… did you know that our dear, dear Lynda-chan of GWSTT fame just won an award and $100 for her awesome arts? *stands and applauds* Not only is she an awesome writer, her arts rock, too. Go check out her website, and be amazed!!

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Mark woke up before the door was opened. In fact, he woke up because they were having such problems getting the door open at all. The banging on the door echoed through the small room, and the concussive pounding was loud enough to wake even the nearly dead. 

He didn't wake up easily; sleep clung to him even as the sound forced him aware. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and wondered where he was. And why if felt drafty. He blearily opened his eyes enough to see, and saw that his pants were down. 

That woke him up some, as did the battered form of Anne near his feet. Memory crashed in on him with the force of a strong wind. His eyes widened further, and he looked at the faintly pink patch of skin where his scar had been. Gingerly, he lifted his right hand and traced the area with his index finger, then with the first two fingers, feeling the unblemished skin. No hair grew in the spot, but that was the only indication he could find that there was anything unusual. The bumps and ridges of the scar tissue were gone, not just from the skin, but from the muscle as well. 

It didn't even hurt. There was no swelling, no pain. He saw the shred of her shirt, neatly tied around something down by his ankle, and reached down to grab it. Upon opening it, he saw the lump of tissue that had plagued him for so many years, and he marveled that she had somehow… made it go away. He wrapped it up again neatly and went back to examining his leg. 

No matter how hard he pressed on the healed area, it refused to hurt. There was no hint of soreness, of nerves stressed and indicating that anything was wrong. Just… healthy muscle. He stood and pulled his pants up and paced about the cell, marveling at the ease with which he could do so. 

It didn't hurt. For the first time in so many years, it didn't hurt to walk. Tears sprung to his eyes, but they were ones of joy. He had taken movement for granted, had never realized how wonderful it was to be able to get up and ambulate until it was a luxury taken from him, and now he had it back. 

He indulged in a couple deep knee bends, and aside from the popping in his joints he was fine. On a whim, he jumped up to the ledge that was to serve as her bed, then back down again. And up, and down, just a few more times, just because he could. He jogged in place, and laughed as he lifted both knees high, as he felt the muscles move easily under his skin in both legs. He stopped, leaned over and touched his toes, feeling the tightness in his muscles as he strained towards them, barely able to reach, and rejoicing that its difficulty was merely a lack of conditioning.

She had healed him.

Sobering a bit at the thought, he sat down on the edge of the ledge and looked at her. She was sprawled, obviously unconscious, unmoving throughout his entire display, not even when he had hopped over her. Somehow, for some reason, she had healed him.

He needed to know why. 

Was she trying to coerce him into saving her? Would she hold the healing over his head, could she take it away if he didn't do what she wanted? He rested his hand protectively over the area, unsure what his answer would be, then shook his head. Of course he would say no to whatever demands she made, even if he went back to being a cripple. This was nice, but he wasn't going to allow it to hang over him, to influence him in any way.

He frowned. Undoubtedly, that was why she did what she did. Plants were the most self-serving creatures on the planet, humans only fodder for their schemes. She obviously felt that healing him would earn her his gratitude, and so tried to wean his loyalties away from the December Group. She probably already had a place for him in some warped plan of hers. As a matter of fact, that was probably why she had befriended him in the first place, wanting to take him from his role in the group, to weaken it by taking one of its key members before she struck and… did something. 

Well, she was in for a rude surprise. Gratitude? Feel gratitude? It was her fault that he had been crippled in the first place. Why should he be pleased with her for fixing the damage she had caused? Could she bring back the years that he had lived in pain and heal them, too? Not likely. 

He stood and walked over to where the pieces of his cane lay. He prodded her shoulder with the longer piece, then smacked her with it when she didn't respond. Her eyes fluttered a bit, and she curled a little around the place he had hit, obviously feeling some pain, even through the depths of her unconsciousness, but she still did not awaken.

He glared down at her, the form sprawled over much of the left side of the cell. Her limbs were mostly splayed, limply spread on the ground. Her legs, he saw the inside of her left thigh and a small, cruel smile played over his lips. He leaned down by her and placed one of the broken ends of the cane against the same spot she had once punctured. His right hand held the base of the other piece, and he swung hard, the head of the cane hitting squarely on the piece in his left.

The point did not slide easily into her flesh, but he felt skin part and muscle tear. Blood seeped out of the wound as he pulled the broken cane out of her leg. 

"Oh, dear, I seem to have missed the artery," he said in a falsetto, then laughed. "Heal that, bitch," he snarled, then turned to sit on the ledge, awaiting his freedom from this room.

Anne whimpered from the floor, a piteous mewling of pain with every exhalation, but still did not awaken.

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*still snickering* LC's just gonna kill me… But she is sugoi.


	22. Detention

A/N: Hmm... I guess you guys did enjoy these. I guess I'll start them up again.

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Anne awoke to intense pain. Her left leg throbbed in time with her pulse, each beat of her heart sending a fresh wave of agony through her flesh, piercing spears of raw pain shooting up her spine as she tried to move into a more comfortable position. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she tried to sit up. It took three tries before she could leverage her back above her waist, and even when she managed that feat, she couldn't sit up straight. Instead, she huddled as far forward as her other injuries would let her, her bruised back and sides keeping her at a forty-five degree angle.

Oh, how it hurt. She could barely keep a handle on the pain, barely hold it at a tolerable level, and she had a very high pain threshold. It felt like every square inch of flesh had been beaten at least once. Her ribs creaked as she swayed, and she girt her teeth as she felt bone grind. Her breathing was as shallow as she could make it, and still it hurt enough for her to want to cry.

She picked up one heavy arm and placed the hand on the wound on her leg as gently as she could, but still wincing as flesh met inflamed flesh. She picked at her jeans, pulling cloth out of the wound, grimacing at the sound of it as well as the complaints that raced across her nerves. It hurt, she wanted to say, but bit her tongue. Of course it hurt. It was meant to hurt. It wasn't supposed to feel nice; it was a beating. 

As far as beatings go, it wasn't a particularly good one. Sure, it had caused a great deal of pain. But generally… in the position that she was in, they didn't want to beat you to death. And this one had come close. Very close; there had been swelling on her brain that took her almost too long to combat. But she had made it over that hurdle, just to have her leg impaled. It seemed hardly fair.

Healing took too much energy, and her body was not used to having to expend it anymore. After using all the available food energy, it didn't want to release any energy from stores. Now that she was burning fat again, she felt a little better, her head a little clearer, but she still found herself seriously wishing that she hadn't skipped breakfast that morning. Or that her captors would supply some food. She looked wistfully about the room for some slop or anything with a caloric value, and was not rewarded.

She sighed, and went back to regarding her leg. Yeah, that was some gratitude there. More like… wound transference. Not that she didn't probably deserve to feel what he had gone through, what he had been required to live with. It was fair, from a certain point of view. But, she had never beat up on him so badly. Of course she had lied to him for years, and a certain degree of frustration was inevitable. 

She wondered if she would ever meet someone who didn't take their frustrations out in such a violent manner. It had amazed her when she learned that some people, that most people were never the recipients of violence, that people were capable of having a relationship that did not involve the random cuff or attack when anger became too much to bear. It astounded her that her type of relationship was considered unhealthy. It was an amazing concept for her, life without violence, love without pain. 

Love was supposed to be pain, wasn't it? Bearing it silently was the mark of how much you wanted the other person, speaking up or hitting back demeaning your true feelings, right? She was as much the giver of pain as she was the recipient, and that was healthy, right?

She shook her head slightly as she worked on her leg. How amazing it had been to find out that she had been wrong. You didn't hit the ones you loved You could go your whole life never raising a hand to them in anger. Or annoyance. She winced a little as she remembered shooting Knives. In retrospect, that did seem a little extreme. 

She sighed, giving up trying to heal her leg for the moment, her concentration shot to hell. She tore off another piece of her shirt and wrapped it around her leg, careful to keep the cloth from sliding in the open wound as she wrapped it around her leg. With great care, she crawled over to the ledge and up onto her bed, throwing her wounded appendage over the side. Her ankle hurt a bit as it supported the weight of her leg, but the lack of pressure on the muscles of her thigh was a great relief. 

"Why is everybody always picking on me?" she whined, voice echoing a bit in the empty room. She nearly started sniffling, but got herself under control before a traitorous tear could fall. Instead, she sighed once more, breath catching as she exhaled. 

The warped door caught her eye, a gleam of amusement entering her visage as she contemplated what they must have gone through to leverage it open. It did look rather stuck now, forced into the closed position, panels bent in with obvious mark of hammer blows. She had long ago determined how to fix the doors here from opening, figured out how to destroy both the power supply and hydraulics system. Those doors were very heavy to move without mechanical help, and she had figured the knowledge would come in handy some day. She just hadn't quite pictured this situation.

Then the door began to move, and she tensed up, wondering what was going to happen to her now, her heart hoping that it wouldn't involve more pain, and the sinking felling in her stomach expecting nothing less.


	23. Travel

Ok, it's slightly shorter than usual, but I started writing after midnight. Gomen ne, k?

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Knives switched out driving duties with Meryl after she awoke. He crawled into the backseat and curled up next to his brother, taking a nap while she traversed the desert. Both he and Vash slept as much as they could, as both anticipated a long night ahead. The two blonde heads rested on each other, nodding slightly as the suspension was stressed by the rigors of the road. Only she and Ace were awake, and the girl was incredibly incommunicative, sulking and staring out the window. Alex might have been awake or asleep, but he made no noise from the bed of the vehicle. The car ride was a long and slightly strained one, as both were wrapped up in personal thoughts of doom and gloom. Ace was very displeased with the reason for the journey, and felt no need to be pleasant. Instead, she sulked like the teenager she still slightly resembled, and sighed heavily every few minutes.

It wasn't the happy family trip that everyone had hoped for and it was disconcerting to have such a looked forward to event be so somber. 

Meryl fretted over her husband's imminent departure from her side and into harm. She was sure that there was soon going to be massive property damage to the plant, perhaps even enough to impede function. With a small smile she reveled in the luxury of no longer having to write the post-disaster reports. While Vash might try very hard to keep people alive, not even her best efforts had been enough to increase his level of concern for the innocent infrastructure. While the thought of some of those people getting their just desserts didn't trouble her conscience too much, the chance that innocent lives could suffer as a result angered her. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white against the black plastic. No one had the right to hurt another. Or gas them and kidnap them. Or jail them and torture them. Or kill them.

She found herself worrying over what had happened to Kiley. She wished that she had been able to convince her to leave with them, but the woman was being stubborn and there just hadn't been enough time. She had been around enough strong-willed individuals to know when arguing wasn't going to get her anywhere, which was why she had left so quickly, but she still wished she could have found the argument that would have convinced her to leave with them. There was something about her, some fey air, where she seemed almost to not care about what could happen to her. She had listened to Knives' stories and knew that the woman had already lived through a great deal of pain, but she still shouldn't be so casual about what might happen to her. Other people cared about her, worried that she might get hurt. If not for her own sake, she should keep herself safe for them. Her absence had hurt Knives and Ace dearly, and in a smaller way Vash, Alex, and herself. She shuddered to think what pain her death might bring. 

She glanced at Knives in the rear view mirror. Never a man given to voluble discourse, he had barely spoken at all since he heard the news. She wondered what he was thinking, how he was reacting to the news that she was a plant. He must care, but what did that mean? Would he be mad that she hadn't told him sooner, sadder that she had run form him and not returned, glad that she was his kind? His sleeping face, calm in repose, gave her no clue, and she reluctantly shifted her gaze to the road ahead, but her mind stayed on the subject a while longer.

He had better not hurt her. She scowled again. That woman pretended to be strong, to be tough, to be able to take everything that happened to her, but there was a fragility to her soul that Meryl sensed. Something in her expression, in the way she had looked at her friend after the angel arm incident, the hope that just fell from her face to be replaced with… To be replaced with nothing at all. Not sadness, not anger, not a mask to hide her true feelings, but nothing at all. It was as if that glimpse, that look of horror went straight to her bared soul and stole it away. It was a total lack of hope, not despair, but a deep and abiding emptiness where hope should be. Almost an apathy, an acceptance of whatever fate may bring, that what happened was deserved and that pain was nothing to be avoided. 

She glanced back at Knives again and hoped that he would be gentle. Gentleness was not a large portion of his nature, but she hoped that he would try to find some, for her sake. Kiley obviously had some sort of problem with being a plant, or why else keep it from everyone? She might be totally wrong about how Kiley felt, about her reaction to her secret being spilled, but she doubted it. It was as if… it was as if she was too used to being in pain. She had one reprieve, one time where she was accepted as a fellow human being, on her merits alone, and then it was stolen from her. What was left for her wasn't even enough to be considered ashes, but was the cold of a shadow after the luxury of a sunbeam.

Meryl sniffed. Just let her at that woman. Plant or no, it wasn't important. She needed a friend, and she would have one. She only hoped that one friend would be enough.


	24. Travel, pov 2

Yup. Late update again. But I've been out having much fun with the ever-awesome Sango, and have been making it back home too exhausted to write. So, it's the morning after update!

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Ace stared out the window at the ever-shifting, never-changing desert and sighed. She could scarcely fathom why they were all dropping everything and rushing out to help that woman. Yay, she was a plant. Was that supposed to make her a better person? The woman had left them, had run off to do whatever it was that was so damn important that she couldn't come back. And now here they were, following after her like chicks after mama.

She had hoped, sadly enough, that when they found Kiley that she would at least be in jail. Hospitalized would have worked, too, but was less likely. But anything, anything that would have given her a good reason to not come back. If she had been incarcerated, or otherwise somehow unable to return to the ship then she could have forgiven her a little. 

But she was working for those bastards who had tortured her, oh, excuse the hyperbole, experimented on her. As if she were a thing, some entity devoid of rights, intelligence, free will, a soul. She was working for the enemy, and she hadn't returned. And people wondered why she wasn't hot to ride to her rescue? She couldn't figure out what they saw in her that was so wonderful that the boys should put themselves in jeopardy, let alone mortal danger, to go and drag her out of the pit she had fallen into. 

She was a killer, avowed and witnessed. Sure, she pretended to not enjoy that part of her life, but she still reacted to every problem with force. Her weapons of choice are pain and fear, and then she sits all alone and wonders why no one likes her. She had felt the fear that Kiley had projected at the men as she and Meryl escaped. There were so many other options available to her, so many other things she could have done to distract their pursuit. Just stimulating the pleasure centers of their brains, for instance. Few men carry the need to fight through an orgasm. Or she could have just put them to sleep and not worried any more over them. But no, she had to pick fear. Idiot.

And why was she working at the plant, anyway? And why that plant, the one she had come from? What was going on there that was more important to her than anything else, like her family? Even if she was a wage slave, didn't they get vacations? She could have come back and explained things, and maybe that would have helped. But no, she just left, leaving behind only a few crappy letters.

She knew that her family felt that her dislike of Kiley was a little extreme. Only Knives understood a little of the reason why, and it was hard for even him to understand the depth of her enmity. Meryl was human, Vash hadn't been in a bulb since his birth, and Alex had never been in a bulb. Getting out of a bulb as a person was much harder than going out of one as a baby. Being inside the bulb was so peaceful, so perfect, so wonderful that it was very hard to force oneself to leave. You needed a driving reason, a force that worked outside of oneself. For Knives, it had been the thought of putting his brother through as much pain as he had been forced to bear. For her, it was the chance to see Kiley again.

When she had left with Knives, she had hoped that action would draw Kiley to follow them. When it had, when she sensed Kiley's presence outside of the bulb, she had been so incredibly happy. They were her family, and they were together, and things were exactly as they were supposed to be. She could hardly wait to heal up enough to be able to get out of the bulb and join them. Then, she had sensed Vash and Meryl's arrival, and the erecting of the barrier, and in all the new sensations, she had missed Kiley's departure.

So when, a couple days later, Knives came and helped her out of the bulb, she had first looked around for Kiley, happily at first, but quickly devolving into something resembling frantic. She wasn't there. And then Knives passed her that incredibly crappy letter, and her heart had broken. That which had drawn her out of the bulb was gone, and she couldn't do anything about it. 

She had been tempted, more then tempted to sneak out of the ship and track her down, but while she was strong enough to leave the bulb, she had still needed more than a month to fully recuperate. And at that point Meryl was beginning to have serious problems keeping the baby. So she had been drafted into the twenty-four hour watch and was unable to get away. Then Alex had been born, and she didn't want to leave while he was still just a little kid, and then when she found the time to actually be able to leave, she found that she didn't want to.

Enough time had elapsed for Kiley to have come back if she had wanted to, or she could have sent a letter, or something, but they had heard nothing from her. She obviously didn't care about the people she left behind, so Ace found herself returning the favor. She didn't want to go looking, scouring the surface of Gunsmoke for someone who could care so little that she could walk away without a backwards glance. 

And now, that she was in trouble, people were supposed to care about her again? It was ludicrous, and she wasn't going to take any part in this idiocy. She had left, and let her stay gone. Good riddance.

Ace tried to ignore how her heart wept.


	25. Meetingupdated

I'm busy, so it's a chaplet. And late. Again, I blame Ms. Sango. *grins*

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Meryl turned off the engine, the soft ticking sounds of cooling an odd counterpoint to the silence. The buildings shadowed the square, more buildings than she had expected. The place looked more prosperous than she remembered, but four years was a long period of time. She just hoped that things were the same, that people were as she remembered them. She could feel the eyes upon her, upon the car, and rested her head on the steering wheel a moment, just to breathe. Then she sat up, shook herself, and opened the door. She stretched again as she stood, her spine bending and bones creaking as she basked in the warmth of the suns, then was attacked by an over-exuberant friend. 

"Meryl!" squealed Millie as she grabbed the smaller woman and lifted her from the ground. Meryl pounded on her back, trying to get a grip before she slid out of the taller woman's arms.

"Hello to you, too, Millie," said Meryl tightly as she tried to breathe, finally managing to throw her arms around her friend's neck.

"Oh my, it's been so long and how have you been and where is the baby did he come with you, oh, hi Mr. Vash, and the time between your letters was so long and it was so hard to wait and I was tempted to go and visit you guys at the ship but I never had the time and here you are and Ace grew up, hello Alex!" Millie dropped Meryl and reached out for Alex. Both women paused to breathe, but Millie recovered first.

"Hello, ma'am," said Alex politely before he was grabbed and hugged tightly. "Oh, my, you look just like Mr. Vash but you have your mother's eyes." Ace sniggered from behind Millie's back at the slightly trapped expression on Alex's face. Millie let go and looked him over critically. "Go stand by your father," she demanded, pushing him slightly. 

Bemused, Vash went to stand by his son, and Millie nodded sagely. "You're taller," she said to Alex. 

"By a little," he said solemnly. 

"I didn't know that men came taller than Mr. Vash. Well, men who aren't scary and deformed and evil and such."

"I'm trying to not be evil, but it's incredibly difficult. There are too many puppies to steal, maidens to ravage, and planets to take over. The temptation is nearly overwhelming," he replied, deadpan. Millie looked at him cautiously, then laughed. He winked at her, and she gave him another hug. 

"I like you," she declared.

"Hey, where's my hug?" asked Vash, hurt dripping from his eyes, arms outstretched. Millie flew into them, and Vash's face purpled. 

She pulled back, grinned at Vash, then walked over to Ace. "You are a very pretty lady," she said solemnly, arms outstretched. Ace looked at her, looked at her arms, and cautiously stepped forward. Millie gave her a gentle hug and a sweet smile, then stepped back and looked at the group.

"Anne is in trouble, isn't she? Let's go in and have some tea, and you can tell me all about it." Alex and Ace shared a startled look, and Vash and Meryl a knowing smile, but they all followed after as Millie led the way to her house. 

Millie went into the kitchen after admonishing everyone to make themselves comfortable. Meryl followed her, and the others gingerly arranged themselves on the living room furniture. Vash had fallen back into a pensive mood, Ace was wondering what exactly she was doing there, and Alex was enjoying looking about the room.

Mille turned to her friend. "Meryl, I said to make yourself comfortable. That does not include helping me make the tea," she admonished.

"I am making myself comfortable," she protested. "I feel like helping."

"Ok, ma'am. Then you put the water on, and I'll see what snacks I can rustle up."

Meryl found the kettle and was filling it with water when Millie opened the window and hollered out, "We need pudding!" 

A faint "Yes, ma'am" was heard. Millie pulled her head back in the kitchen and grinned at Meryl, who was looking at her oddly. "Did you think I was going to try to cook?"

"No, that was always my job. I just like how dignified you have gotten in your old age," she said with a grin.

"Well, I am living with my little big brother and his wife. They do keep trying to make a lady out of me. Something about me being a role model to the kids." She waved a hand about lazily in illustration.

The kettle began to whistle. Millie grabbed the handle with a towel and took it out to the living room. Meryl followed with a few mugs and cups. She almost dropped them all when Millie came back to get the tea, but managed to fumble them into everyone's hands without breaking any.

Millie came back with tea, milk, sugar, and instant coffee, which Meryl gladly grabbed and the others passed by. The room was silent as everyone busied themselves with preparing their drinks, but it was only a minute before Millie crossed her legs and said, "So what trouble is Anne in now?"

Ace scowled into her cup, but everyone else looked at Millie. "Why do you think she's in trouble?" asked Vash.

"Because I normally hear from her on Fridays, and I didn't yesterday, and now here all of you are."

"She's kept in contact with you?"

Millie nodded and took a sip of her tea. "Of course she has. And she's been sending me pudding, and money to the orphanage when she can. She's a sweet girl."

A knock at the door interrupted them. Millie rose to get it, and grabbed a large platter of sweets from someone at the door.

"Here we go," she said as she set the plate down on the table. She grabbed a dish of pudding and sat back down. "Dig in, everyone."


	26. Bothersome

Yeah, um, I guess Sunday's chapter was a little late, wasn't it? But I had so much fun….

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Knives stretched out into the space that his brother had just vacated, working out the kinks that had developed in his knees during the drive. Everyone had silently agreed that his presence now would be more of a hindrance than anything else, so he stayed behind in the car while his family visited Millie. No one had said anything as he didn't make a move to leave the vehicle; not even his brother tried to make everything seem all happy and perfect by trying to include him in the gathering.

He didn't really mind staying behind; there was nothing about that woman that was so wonderful that he felt the need to converse with her, or even be forced to listen to her. For the most part, her babblings were childish and emotional, and the woman refused to see the world as it really was. It was no wonder that she and his brother were friends; both believed in the fairy tale that people had a better nature. He ignored the fact that non-inane things she said had a tendency to be uncomfortably true. He did not avoid humans. They ran from him.

The sounds of children playing filtered dimly through the closed windows of the car, and Knives sighed. Games were such a waste of time, teaching one nothing. Better to spend your time studying, or exercising to keep the body fit. The pursuit of fun was a waste of time, and games always ended up hurting someone. The infirm, the less-popular, the shy, none of these benefited from games. It was just a means by which the strong showed off their strength, a place for the popular to rub their popularity in the face of others. Yet still parents encouraged this waste of time, more as a means to be freed from the demands of their offspring than because they felt that games held any benefit for the development of the child.

He closed his eyes and tried to nap some more, but the amount of rest he had partaken of during the ride over left him wide awake now. He tossed and turned a bit, as much as one can on a seat two feet wide, and finally settled with one arm flung over his eyes to block the fading light. 

Soon it would be night, and time for him and Vash to return to December, to get Kiley out of whatever mess she had refused to leave. He tried to keep himself from wondering why she had decided that it was better to stay and face the ravaging horde of humans than it was to return to see him, but he tried to not take it personally. Surely, she wasn't avoiding him. 

A soft tapping at the widow caught his attention. He peeked out from under his arm and saw a pale, slender girl peering in the window. He closed his eyes and settled back. The tapping resumed, and he looked again. The girl smiled shyly and waved at him. He rolled his eyes, but waggled his fingers at her, slightly, then returned to his rest.

The sound of the front passenger door opening made him sit up. 

"Hello," she said as he scrambled.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked crossly. "Shoo."

She ignored him, instead folding her arms on the back of the seat and resting her chin over her crossed wrists. "What are you doing in here?" she repeated, her voice soft. "Ms. Thomson is really nice; I'm sure she would make you tea, too."

"I like it here. That woman annoys me."

"She's sweet," she said, enunciating the words carefully, showing off a tendency to lisp by how carefully she shaped the sibilants.

"Just because you like someone does not mean that I have to." He scowled at her, hoping she would go away, but she seemed unperturbed by his glare.

"I guess not," she admitted. She stared at him for a minute, and he just wished she would leave. He didn't want to lie back down while she was in the car; she might take that as tacit permission to remain. He continued to glare at her, then when that showed no signs of working, pushed at her arms. 

She sat back and started to cough, deep wracking coughs that left her breathless. "You looked lonely," she gasped at the end, then looked past him, slightly flushed. 

Knives was surprised to see that she was embarrassed to have been caught coughing. It struck him as amusing that so bold a child would be nervous about a reflex. He grinned a little at the thought, and she flushed more.

"Sorry," she said softly. "I'm not very healthy. My lungs don't work right."

"Is that why you aren't out making a hellacious amount of noise with those other children?" he asked.

She nodded in response, still not meeting his eyes. 

"Then you should be studying now, and working to improve your mind. Not sitting here and annoying strangers." He sat back and flung his arm over his eyes again and prayed that she would leave. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, then got out of the car. He peeked and watched her leave, watched her slow passage to the large building. She paused to rest after getting to the door, as if walking up the few stairs to the porch was a severe tax on her energy. 

Knives spent a few seconds wondering what was wrong with the girl, but dismissed her from his thoughts. He had more important problems, like trying to figure out how to get Kiley out of one of the most heavily guarded places on the planet. Without killing anyone, too, as he knew that neither she nor his brother would stand for the easy solution to the problem.

Fools. He was surrounded by sentimental fools.


	27. Plans

And I'm up to speed with Monday's now. So… technically, maybe I did miss a day. But I made it up, so does that make it better?

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"So," said Millie after everyone had applied themselves to the food. "Why are you all here? Not that I don't love to see you, but you are all more somber than a visit calls for. And Anne isn't here, and I don't imagine that you would leave her behind."

"As you figured, Kiley is in trouble," Vash said with a wry smile. 

"She goes by Anne, now. It's her real name, you know."

Vash shrugged and grabbed another donut. "She's still Kiley in my head." He paused, waiting for a comment that didn't come, then continued in a very portentous manner. "But Meryl and Ace went to find her, because Alex and Knives and I were still stuck behind that barrier she made. Then they were then captured by evil fiends…"

"Men who worked as security for the plant in December," explained Meryl.

"That's where Anne works!" exclaimed Meryl.

Vash looked on the two with an expression of long suffering, and tried to bring the conversation back to his narrative. "Anyway, Ace and Meryl were knocked unconscious, and stuck in a cell, obviously in preparation for more evil deeds than mere kidnapping and the knocking about the head which were just the beginning of he horrors, the warm up of you will. They were stuck in the cell, left to contemplate the fate that had trapped them there, and then Kiley broke down the door…"

"Or broke down the guards outside the door," pointed out Ace sarcastically. 

Vash ignored her interruption. "…and rescued them and then valiantly stayed behind to cover their retreat," he finished grandly, fighting tears. 

"Or was too much of a coward to go and face her family," muttered Ace as she reached for a donut. Her hand made it to the pastry right before Vash's grab. They stared at each other intently for a moment, then she snatched both hand and treat away. Vash sighed and pouted for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed a cookie. 

"Anyway," said Meryl. "He and Knives are going to go and beak her out."

"Don't worry," he said seriously, brushing crumbs from his chin. "We won't bring trouble here. But we thought it would be a good idea to let you know what we were getting into."

"Are you going to rescue Anne, too, Meryl?"

"No," she said apologetically. "Those two way outclass mere humans now. It's almost scary, what they can do. Then this loser," she snuggled closer to Vash, "falls down or does something goofy and it's not scary at all. Kiley left this little book of tricks, and they learned them all. Ace and Alex, too, but she doesn't want to go and there is no way he is getting to go," she said with a pointed look at her offspring. 

"Yes, mom," he said, raising his cup in silent salute. "I'm too young for battle, I know."

Millie looked at him. "You look all grown up."

"I am all grown up. Er, mostly," he amended after a look from his mother. "I still have a lot of things to learn about life," he recited, a rote declaration made into a joke by the twinkle in his eye. 

"And don't you forget it, buster," said his mother.

Millie turned her gaze on Ace. "Why aren't you going?"

"She left us, I figure leaving her there is fair. No one else agrees, but there's nothing on this planet that will get me going after her."

Millie looked at her, but didn't comment. "I saw Knives in the car. Is he… still very evil?" she asked tentatively.

"Not so much," said Meryl quietly. "He'll never be Mr. Personality, but Alex's birth changed him a bit. I don't think he ever realized how alike plants and humans can be until he saw his nephew being born. My husband was a total wreck and Ace was still to young to help with the delivery, so he had to stand in. Then the miracle of life worked it's magic on another angry soul."

"Which is not to say he won't decide tomorrow that humans need to be exterminated again," cautioned Vash. "I get the feeling that he's thinking very hard on the question of what he should do next, and that it's still a toss-up between extermination and ignoring the rest of the world. Joining it is still beyond his capacity," he finished up sadly.

"That's sad," she remarked. "But it's good that he doesn't feel like killing at the moment. It makes me feel a little safer."

"He will never hurt you," declared Ace. "He knows that to do so will lose his the regard of his entire family, and I know he like us too much to do that. It's just the rest of the world that has to worry. Not that we won't still be mad at him, but the degree is different, and he knows that."

Millie nodded, then changed the subject and questioned Vash. "So, what are you and Knives planning on doing?"

"We're going to go rescue her."

"How?"

"Well… in the traditional manner, I guess. Where you storm the building and leave carnage behind," said Meryl half-jokingly, punching her husband lightly on his right shoulder.

"No… we were thinking more just knocking people unconscious from a great distance, then walking in and finding her."

"You can do that?" asked Millie.

Vash nodded sadly, looking at his hands and lacing his fingers together. "That's one of the things Kiley taught us."

"It's great for insomnia," interjected Alex. "Also works good as an anesthesia. And as a way to stop people without harming them. Well, you do get bruised from falling to the ground, but that's about it."

"I guess," said Vash morosely.

"That's wonderful, Mr. Vash!" exclaimed Millie. "Maybe you won't even have to be like the humanoid typhoon this time."

"That's my fervent hope," he said with a small smile. "Let him stay dead."


	28. Bothersome, p2

Knives was mentally going over the various techniques he planned to employ during the rescue. He was a little uncomfortable with the idea of knocking people unconscious using Kiley's tricks. It wasn't so much the ethical ramifications as it was he was regretting his lack of practice. Really, your family will only take being put to sleep so many times before they refuse to be a test subject. He knew the theory, and knew it well, but it was still mostly theory. He didn't know his limits, didn't know how many people he could knock out at once. He was rather relieved that Vash was going in with him to back him up, but would never have implied that such a thing was possible. Even if his brother did have a complex when it came to harming the guilty, he would be useful if there were more humans there than Knives could easily handle.

His fingers twitched slightly as he counted off the steps he would need to take within their minds to knock them out. The front passenger side door opened, and he assumed that it was his brother, finally done consorting with the humans. "Are we ready to go?" he asked, not moving.

"Go where?" asked that annoyingly quiet voice. 

He took his arm off his eyes and sat up again. "Why are you back?" he asked with a glare.

She held out a glass of water to him. "I thought you might be thirsty," she explained.

Knives looked at her, at the water, and at her again. With a sigh, he grabbed the glass, guzzled the liquid, and handed it back to her. "Now will you leave?"

"You're welcome." She smiled at him, but made no move to go.

"I'm what?" He was beginning to wonder if the child was touched in the head.

"Miss Millie says that even if someone doesn't say thank you, you should always say you're welcome, anyway. Just because someone else isn't polite is no reason for you to be." Her voice fell into that woman's cadences, and Knives sighed again.

"Thank you," he said, growling out the words. "Now, will you go away and not come back?"

The irritating girl didn't respond, but readopted her pose of chin on hands and began staring at him again. 

He refused to acknowledge how much she was beginning to piss him off, but settled back down with the thought that killing her would not be worth the trouble or the satisfaction. 

"What should I study?" she asked after a few moments.

"Anything that gets you away from me."

"Oh. So… how about gardening? I could study that."

"If you like."

"Or… how about reading stories? I like stories."

"Fiction rots your mind and makes you weak."

"Oh. Well, I could read history…"

"Doctored tales of the lives of small men hold no interest to a superior being," he said, then snarled at the stumble. 

"Oh. Um… what do you read, then?"

"Nothing you would understand."

"Ok. Then what should I read?"

"Whatever brings happiness to your small and miserable life, I suppose. Are you going to leave?" He peeked out from behind his arm to glare at her, and she was laughing at him!

"What?" he asked peevishly.

"You're funny. My life isn't small. It's as big as I am!"

He looked around her, to her left and to her right, his eyes showing just how large he found her. 

"Which isn't as big as you are, I guess," she said a bit more soberly. "But I'm working on getting bigger."

"Wonderful. Go work somewhere else."

"Do you not like me?" she asked, sitting back on the edge of the seat and cocking her head at him, chin set at an imperious angle.

"I hate you."

"Why?"

"Because you are a worthless use of resources better utilized elsewhere." 

"Oh. Why?"

"Because your life will never amount to anything more than having more worthless children to clutter up this planet."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because there is nothing special about you, other than the fact you are ill and obviously stupid enough to tempt your fate by getting on my nerves."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. Now, leave. I have better things to do than waste my time talking to a child."

Her face crumpled, but Knives merely settled back down, again, and covered his eyes with his arm. After a minute she quietly opened the door and left.

He tried to get back to thinking about what he was going to do in a few hours, but his concentration was shot, his irritation keeping him from focusing. He kept waiting for that girl to come back, and finally gave up trying to do anything useful with his time.

When he sat up, he noticed that the first sun had already set, the light dimming to dusk. It was time to go, anyway, but Vash still hadn't left that woman's house. With a sigh, he opened the car door and got out. He took a moment to stretch and move about, using his muscles just to remember how it felt to ambulate. Then he strode purposefully to the woman's porch, jumping the few steps to the deck and taking only one long step to reach the door.

He opened the door and allowed his body to fill the frame, but didn't venture inside. The frivolity that had greeted his ears, the laughter and jokes all stopped as they realized he had arrived. He scowled, then, annoyed that they were having fun while he was left behind. And that they felt like now was a time to be happy. They could die, tonight, and they were laughing. The fools.

"It's time to go, Vash," he said, his gaze ignoring everyone else in the room. His brother nodded and slowly stood, but Knives had already turned to go. He didn't need to watch the goodbyes, and had none to say himself.


	29. Driving

Yup. After twenty-eight days, I took one totally off. *hears the gasps of shock* Sorry, guys, but I was very sleepy.

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The ride back to December was short and quiet, the dark of the night cradling the road and lending an air of unreality to the journey. The forty iles flew by under the wheels of the car, the distance it had once taken a day to walk taking less than an hour to drive. Knives wondered idly if that was progress, or just another way the humans divorced themselves from the world around them. 

Vash stared out the window, his gaze distant, locked on the shadows cast by the moons. Knives didn't have to ask to know that he was unsure of his role in the coming emancipation. He could harm the humans, as was his usual wont, or he could quit pretending to have the same limits as the insects and stop them painlessly. It was no question to him which option his brother would choose, but then again, he didn't have to let go of a cherished illusion before the best answer was available. It was foolishness, but pointing that fact out wouldn't help anything. 

Plus, his silence kept him from being subjected to the annoyingly hurt look his brother adopted every time he was faced with reality.

Sometimes he wondered just how the universe could create a person like his brother. It wasn't that the man wasn't smart. There were times that Knives wondered if his brother wasn't even more intelligent than him. It was just that he had not the slightest shred of motivation. None. He would be perfectly happy living his life on a tree farm. In fact, hat was what Vash had done with Meryl, ever since he rescued those women from his tender care. Tending trees. Not that an arboreal hobby was a bad one, but as a vocation? It wasn't very taxing, either to the body or to the mind. He could do so much more, should do so much more. Let a human spread mulch. His brother was needed elsewhere.

Knives suppressed a sigh. Not that his brother agreed, and there was no being on the planet as stubborn as his brother. All his grand plans had come to naught because his twin refused to let anything change. He wondered what had gone so wrong in the womb, that he would be born so proactive and Vash so willing to cling to the past. Was it true that twins were only one soul, and only together could form a coherent being? 

Nonsense. Superstitious nonsense. 

He shot another sideways glance at his brother as the lights of December grew on the horizon. The faint glow barely lit his face, yet the illumination was enough for Knives to make out his hardened expression. 

Knives hid a grin this time. His brother had finally made the decision to let go of another one of his ideals in order to keep harm from the undeserving. For this alone, he was tempted to be benevolent to Kiley. For creating a circumstance that forced his brother closer to his true nature, it was almost enough to forgive her the transgression of leaving and not coming back. 

Almost. 

He frowned at the thought, unsure of what his response to her should be. He hadn't seen her for years. She had left and made him a prisoner in his own home. She had created desires inside him then taken the outlet for them with her. She wasn't even likely the person he remembered anymore, time having the tendency to change people, and she so eager to change herself.

He hadn't missed her, no, not that. He hadn't missed the frustration, the arguments, the times she upstaged him, the time that she shot him in the leg. He had had enough of her secrets and lies and half-truths. All he needed from her now was closure, an explanation or a reason. Why hadn't she told him what she was?

Did she think him that horrible? That he was too great a monster to even share a genome with? 

He scowled. Why did all the freeborn plants feel the need to identify themselves with the humans? Even Ace didn't take as much pride in her heritage as she really ought, and she was the best of the lot. All she really cared about were the tricks. The fact that her sisters lived in bondage, the very life sucked from them by people who couldn't even be made to understand the nature of their transgressions, even that wasn't enough to move her. She merely sulked around the ship, reading trashy novels and staring out the window. Meryl excused her behavior by naming her a teenager, but that was no reason to not care for the fate of your species. He had cared at a much younger age, for all that had gotten him.

Some days he felt that he was the only one in the universe who cared about the voiceless members of his family. He saw the looks that passed over the faces of those near him, knew that they thought he was heartless. But how was he supposed to care for those who could make their own decisions when he was the only one who cared for the lives of the enslaved?

And Kiley was a plant. He wondered if she had ever spared a thought for the plight of those in the bulbs as she worked at the plant. Did it ever occur to her that it might be her in there, dying for the parasites that ceaselessly sucked at the finite spring? How could she bear to be a part of the machine that pulled life from the innocent and spread it among the guilty? 

He sighed again as he pulled the car over and parked it. He had chosen a street at random, one that was far enough away from the plant that no one would wonder why the vehicle was there, but one that was close enough for him and Vash to get to the plant quickly. Now that they were here, he wanted this whole thing over with.


	30. Preparation

Knives exited the car and waited for his brother to join him. The city was full of the noises that accompanied humans wherever they went. Somewhere a man was yelling at his woman, who screeched back. Somewhere a cat yowled, in heat he assumed. The noise seemed to mock the woman, echoing her voice. It seemed an apt comparison, the howl of the feline fading into a counterpoint to the argument. Humans, so animal like, and so blind to their true natures. He almost pitied them, but pity would get neither him nor them anywhere, so he refrained. 

His gaze was naturally drawn to the sky, away from the evidence of the humans, but even the stars were occluded by the dirt of the city, touched by the miasma that surrounded the den of humanity. They seemed very dim, faint and far away. He almost felt lost, as if they had deserted him.

And still he was waiting for his brother.

He reached out and pounded on the roof of the car, trying to remind the airhead that they were here for a reason. A few more moments passed, and he beat out another percussive reminder.

Finally Vash opened the car door and stood up.

"Ready?" asked Knives, asperity coloring his voice.

His brother nodded, but said nothing. 

Knives rolled his eyes and set off towards the plant. Why did this goof have to be the only one willing to accompany him? He'd almost have rather had Alex, even with the boy's tendency to get distracted at the oddest times. At least he didn't whine as loudly as his father, even if he didn't use words. Vash ghosted after him, protesting silently the entire time. 

They paused a few blocks from the plant to go over their plan of attack. They were going to situate themselves outside the main door to the plant and gauge the traffic in and out. When they detected a lull, they were going to go in, knock unconscious the people they found, grab Kiley, and drag her out. 

Vash was being entirely too monosyllabic for Knives' tastes. He could tell by his brother's mien that he was just aching to pull on those annoying yellow sunglasses again, that he wanted to hide his eyes behind the anonymity of the circles of colored glass. Likely, the only thing that stopped him was the fact that they were attacking in the dead of the night, and that visibility was already rather poor without further diminishing it. 

For such a stubborn man, he certainly had a hard time dealing with situations like these. It was his soft heart. Already it bled for the pain it was about to cause. 

Knives couldn't help himself, but rolled his eyes as he turned away after the review. Let the humans bleed. Let them die, if that was the course they chose. Only a fool would attack a superior being in the first place. That thought never stopped a human, but then again, they were all fools. Vash's obsessing over their pain got him nowhere. The humans didn't care if they got hurt, or they wouldn't attack. How his brother could decide on a course of action and then pretend that his reluctance in any way eased the minds of those involved was a mystery to him.

Much better to weigh ones options, decide on a course of action, and then accept that ones actions have consequences. Sometimes you have to do things you don't much like, but you do it because the options are worse. For instance, he would prefer to kill all the humans who dared to stand in his way, but his family might disown him. And since the vermin were not worth such a fate, they got to live. 

Slowly, cautiously, Knives and Vash strolled to the perimeter of the square that fronted the main entrance to the plant. It was edged by cafes and restaurants, most of which were already closed at this late of an hour. Noise and light spilled out of one crowded bar, marring the stillness of the night, but seemed to accentuate the stillness of the rest of the square in contrast.

Knives picked one of the tables at a random café to sit at, taking down one of the chairs that had been placed on the table and sitting down. The edge of the parasol that shaded the table rustled in the evening breeze, and Knives fought a chill. Vash sat down next to him, and the two stared slightly to their right, marking the comings and goings at the front door. 

The night seemed quiet enough. Few people felt the need to visit the plant at this hour, more people leaving than entering. Knives stayed still as the moons moved a few degrees in the sky, watching, waiting for the right moment to make his move. Their move. He shot a glance at his brother out of the corner of his eye, caught him slowly fidgeting with a buckle on his body armor. 

He looked down at his much less protected form and hid a small smile. The humans weren't going to come close enough for his lack to matter. The fools thought that they knew what plants were, thought they knew what they were capable of doing. They had no concept of how utterly wrong they were, how completely outclassed they were. He could wander around naked, and they still wouldn't be able to touch him. He was nearly invincible now, nearly as powerful as one of their gods.

He was nearly caught.

He sensed something, a breath of air that moved differently from how the it had ebbed during their wait. He threw himself to the ground, and the dart that had been shot at him missed by a narrow margin. Its clatter as it fell to the square was masked by the crash of the chair falling down as Knives threw himself out of the way.

This was not in the plan.


	31. Battery

*hums a happy AL song to herself* Here's some lame action. 

********************************************************************************

"Damn." The curse was uttered in a low voice from behind him and to his left, far enough away that he wondered if it had even come from within the square. Knives rolled forward and put the table between him and whoever had just shot at him. Vash conceived the same course of action, and the brothers' shoulders met as they huddled behind the faint cover and searched the shadows for their attackers.

"How did they know we were here?" asked Vash in a whisper.

"How should I know?" shot back Knives, his voice a low hiss. "I'm not the one who had my face plastered on reward posters, though."

"That was twenty years ago! These guys probably aren't old enough to have seen them!"

"I know that. They shot at me first, too, didn't they? I suppose they have cameras watching the square." Knives punched the ground, frustrated with himself. "And it isn't suspicious to have two men start watching the plant now, is it?"

Vash sighed and touched his brother's arm. "I guess the plan gets changed a little, huh?"

Knives nodded. "No choice. You go right, I'll go left. First one there takes them down," Knives ordered. Vash nodded, then threw himself to the right, nearly crashing into tables as he rolled away. Knives scrambled to his left, crouched low, creeping forward in a half-crawl. The tables were more of an obstacle than cover, but he did his best to use them as a mask to his movement. 

All too soon, he ran out of tables. The café was circled by an ornamental fence, and when he vaulted it another dart was sent his way. This one got caught in the folds of his shirt. He plucked it out as he ran to the wall of a building and threw it away, glad that he was wearing something loose enough that the tip had gotten caught before it broke his skin.

Pressing himself against the building, he pulled his gun, the black of the weapon lost in the darkness of the night. He grinned, a frightening rictus, then dashed to where the last shot had come from. Finally, he was doing something about the vermin. Maybe they would live past tonight, but at least they would remember what it was like to be completely outclassed. Soon, they would know their place.

He caught up with the men as they were scrambling to find a new position. They were moving towards the mouth of an alley behind one of the buildings fronting the square, but couldn't reach cover before he found them. The man with the dart gun was still in the process of reloading, but the other two had him covered, guns drawn and pointing at Knives. He laughed when he saw the fear on their faces, laughed as he easily dodged their bullets. Did these fools thing that merely shooting at him would be enough to stop him? Would the humans never learn, he wondered as he reached out a hand to the first man, and then the second, sending them both into unconsciousness. They keep to the same tactics and wonder why they never achieve anything.

He shook his head, then turned to face the man with the dart gun. His hands were shaking so much he couldn't load it. Knives grinned at him mirthlessly, holstered his gun, and stalked forward. Mindlessly, the vermin threw the dart at him, but Knives batted it harmlessly out of the air. 

"You are fools," he told him, reaching out and touching the side of his face gently. He laughed as the man hit the pavement, then leaned over and grabbed his right arm. Holding it over his leg, one hand on the wrist and the other at the elbow, he brought his hands down and snapped the bones.

"What did you do that for?" came the angry voice of his brother from behind him. "He was already unconscious! You… you… sadist!"

Knives stood and walked over to one of the other bodies and picked up the right arm, holding it over his leg. Vash grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, causing his to lose his balance and drop the appendage. 

"Don't!"

Knives looked up over his shoulder at his brother and reached for the arm again. "Do you know how long they are going to remain unconscious?" he asked pointedly. "I'm not going to leave them at our back to wake up and rejoin the fray."

"But you don't have to hurt them."

"You're right; I could kill them instead. But this way, no matter when they wake up, they won't be fighting anytime soon." He snapped the man's arm.

Vash swallowed visibly. "That's… you… I thought you weren't going to be a monster anymore," he said sadly.

"I'm not being a monster," he sighed as he went to the last man. "I'm just being practical. I would rather kill them; then I know that they wouldn't cause us any further trouble. But in regards to your… tender… sensibilities," crack went the remaining arm, "I'm refraining from the obvious solution."

Vash turned away, and Knives could see his shoulders shaking slightly. "Are you planning on doing this to everyone you knock out?" 

"Well, yes," he said, sounding slightly surprised. "It's only logical."

Vash shook his head and slowly walked towards the square and the plant. Knives looked at the bodies at his feet and shook his head. The vermin would heal in six to eight weeks, and it wasn't as if they were going to die in the meantime. The humans might be savages, but they had progressed beyond cannibalism. Someone would take care of them. 

Knives followed Vash to the square. They both faced the plant, then walked stoically towards the front door. Plan or no plan, knocking them out or keeping them out, it was time to fight.


	32. Trapped!

Of course, you can only fight if you actually find someone to fight with.

The door to the plant hissed open as they walked near. The two stopped and crouched, seconds passing slowly as they waited for the rush of defenders that never came. Cautiously, Vash inched forward as Knives guarded his back, and the two slowly entered the atrium. 

There was no one there. Steam still rose from an untended cup of coffee, so whoever had guard duty at the front desk hadn't been gone long. But no trace of a human presence was in the room. No one hid in the room, not behind the counter or huddled near one of the plastic plants that stood sentry by the door.

"This is odd," commented Vash.

"Maybe they heard about your penchant for destruction and decided to just let us take the girl and go," said Knives facetiously.

His brother sighed. "It's never that easy."

"Then quit wasting time trying to understand. There's probably a trap later on."

"Think we can handle whatever it is?"

Knives snorted, and his expression told anyone who bothered to look his opinion on that. "No human can stop me."

"Yet."

"Ever. No human ever has, and none will."

Vash looked over his shoulder at his brother. "Saying things like that just tempts fate."

"Fate is a superstition. It's all chaos, nothing meant, nothing planned."

"Kiley didn't arrive here through chaos. Someone brought her here."

Knives scowled at his brother but didn't say anything. He pushed past him and jumped over the half-gate that blocked access to the corridor. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss such things."

Vash shrugged and followed, hopping the gate easily and catching up to his brother's tense back.

The empty halls might have looked eerie to someone used to the normal bustle of the plant, the engulfing silence might have seemed oppressive to one who remembered the casual banter of coworkers. But the halls were very similar to the ones in Knives' ship, and both were used to the quiet of those corridors. What got to them was not the emptiness, but the lack of any opposition at all.

"Where are they?" asked Vash after they cautiously turned another corner and saw no one.

"Probably somewhere ahead of us and sneaking up behind. A classic trap, one worthy of the humans' limited grasp of strategy."

"Well," Vash felt urged to point out, "it's not like they knew we were coming. Making up a good plan quickly is hard for anyone."

"No, it's exactly like they knew we were coming. As soon as they caught your woman, they had to have known that someone was going to try and get her."

"Kiley did."

"And they most likely assumed that someone would be back to get her out, as well, and would then be planning a trap."

"Why?"

Knives sighed. "I don't know why. Why do the humans do anything? Their puerile brains have obviously decided that they need a plant. And if they need one plant, why not three? Typical human behavior, desiring more than what they actually need."

"Why do they need us?"

"Based on what they did to Ace, I don't think I really want to find out. Let's get her and get out of here."

Vash nodded, and they continued their cautious creep through the halls. After a few more minutes, he asked, "Do you know where we are going?"

"Ace said that they kept her in an unused lab, and the labs are over in this direction."

"But what if she isn't there?"

"Then we look somewhere else."

"Where?"

"I don't know. Somewhere that they can monitor and jail. Really, the labs are the only logical choice."

"Oh."

A few more minutes and a few more halls. 

"This place is very large, isn't it?" commented Vash.

Knives didn't deign to reply, instead listening to something he could barely hear.

"Do you hear that?" said Vash excitedly after a few seconds. Knives waved at him to shush him, desperately wanting to say that he could hear nothing while someone spoke, but refraining, as pointing the fact out would only create irony.

The sounds were faint and muffled, but he could make out at least seven different paces behind him and eleven ahead. The ones behind suffered from some acoustical occlusion, and the ones ahead were difficult to differentiate as the people moving were attempting to be quiet. At a conservative guess, he would put twenty men ahead and likely as many behind. 

Signaling with hands and head motions, he communicated this information to Vash. He nodded, then proceeded to pull those annoying yellow sunglasses from his pocket and slip them on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with one finger. Knives bit back a sigh, and wondered where his brother had picked up the aggravating tendency towards drama. 

They both took up positions on either side of the hallway, backs to the wall, Knives looking ahead and Vash looking behind. There was nowhere to run, even had the two been inclined to avoid this standoff. Vash pulled his gun and held it loosely in his right hand, barrel pointing at the ceiling. Knives kept his in his holster. He didn't shoot to incapacitate, he shot to kill. Better to rely on tricks and not make a mistake.

They heard a radio behind them, a tinny voice reporting that team A was in position, and then a muffled curse. The response was inaudible; whoever was in charge of the radio must have turned down the volume.

Knives smiled at this. It was obvious that they didn't have the element of surprise, but the fools continued on as if they did. Better to just fight now and get their interruption over with. He had a few questions that needed answers, and none of these fools were the person he needed to ask. That made them expendable.


	33. Action!

You wonder why it takes me so long to get to the action? It's because I suck at action scenes. It's called… procrastination!

********************************************************************************

The men turned the corners of the corridor at nearly the same instant, a well coordinated maneuver that impressed no one. Those who they might have tried to take unaware were too aware of their arrival, and on top of that the trap had been devised to take down one individual. No one had expected Knives to arrive. A few people had come to believe that Knives was a myth, or had died unmourned many years ago. It had been a command decision to continue the plan as conceived, and hope for the best, as there wasn't time to create a better one, and the thought of not challenging the enemy when he invaded their sanctum was too much to be borne. 

Upon seeing them, Vash and Knives sprinted towards the groups, ready to take them out. A few shouts of "Stop!" and "Stay where you are or I'll shoot!" were heard from the mass of men, but neither plant slowed. The corridor that had been chosen for the trap was one hundred feels long. Both plants could cover a distance of fifty feel in under three seconds. The men never had a chance, and the smart ones knew it, knew it as soon as they saw that there were two plants. 

Even with guns drawn, even with the knowledge that a threat was bearing down on them, few of these men had ever fired a weapon in anger or self defense. For them, there was a moment of hesitation, of needing to form a conclusion of threat before the finger could tighten on the trigger. This delay worked to the advantage of the plants, and was nothing the men could have overcome. They had been well trained, over trained perhaps, and no finger tightened on the trigger out of fear, or an adrenaline fueled twitch. And so the plants came close, and were then too close to comrades for an easy shot.

The six men who had actually been called to discharge their weapon in the line of duty were also, not coincidentally, the leaders of the expedition. It had been impressed upon them with rabid fervor that these men were not to be killed, save as a last resort. Just seeing a slight blonde man rushing towards them was not enough of a threat to make them fire against orders. Besides, there were twenty men to his one. Surely the odds were in their favor.

They had been told that plants were fast, but they had still expected something on the level of a very fast human, and had planned accordingly. They learned how wrong they were as the plants arrived before they were ready. They had not been told that the mere touch of their hand could knock a man out. Knives was the first to reach a group, and the leader was the first to fall. The man barely had time to try to comprehend that Knives had appeared in front him before he found himself falling into a deep black pit.

There was no real challenge to the brothers, save that the men were packed so closely in the hall that it was difficult to reach those at the rear once the bodies in the front started to fall. Only those at the very back of the group had enough time to witness what was happening and have time to even begin to worry. All they saw was a demon coming towards them, the bodies of their friends and comrades slumping lifelessly to the floor in less than a heartbeat. Most of these men were caught in a heartbeat of indecision, unsure whether to respond to the threat by attacking or running away as fast as they could. And, not given the time to choose, they fell.

Save one. Only one of these men had the presence of mind to fire. He didn't have time to aim, but leveled his gun at the chest of the oncoming monster and pulled the trigger. The retort was deafening, echoing in the confined space, seeming to stop time while the noise overwhelmed all other senses. Then it faded, and Knives looked up as the last body in his group slipped to the floor. He saw his brother falling backwards, body sliding through the air with the bonelessness that never heralded anything good.

"Vash!" he screamed, his voice sounding tinny in his ringing ears. The space between them disappeared in a fraction of a heartbeat, Knives arriving at his brother's side almost before he hit the floor. A heavy backhand knocked the human into the wall and into unconsciousness before he even had time to register his presence. Hitting the man was not even enough of a thought to be an afterthought, but was merely an instinctual response. Something had harmed his brother, and was harmed in return.

As soon as the man was falling, Knives was turning to survey the damage. His breath caught in his throat as he leaned down, one hand tentatively reaching out to his brother's face. He was pale, so pale, and he wasn't breathing. A quick glance at the body and the floor, and he noticed no blood.

Then Vash drew in one shuddering breath, his shoulders quavering with the effort. It was followed by a gasping exhalation as he tried to convince his diaphragm to work again. Slowly his breathing steadied, and then his eyes opened. His gaze was lifted over the top of his sunglasses, and he grinned sheepishly at Knives.

"This is why body armor is a good thing." he pointed out.

Knives rolled his eyes and gave his brother a hand up. "If you weren't so slow, they never would have touched you," he pointed out waspishly.

Vash attempted a shrug, but thought better of it as he pulled muscles forming bruises. "Someone has to be better," he pointed out.

"Try to not let it be one of the humans."


	34. Searching

Ok, and why is FF.net down for 911? 

********************************************************************************

Knives turned, strode back to the group of humans he had left, and proceeded to crouch down and break their arms. Vash leaned against the wall with his eyes closed and tried unsuccessfully to not flinch with each sickening crack. Absently, he rubbed at his chest, trying to work some of the sting out. The armor may have stopped the bullet, but there was still a bunch of kinetic energy that had no place to go other then forward. Carefully, he tested the area around the grate on his chest, made sure that the gaping hole in his ribcage that it covered was still protected. Thankfully, it was, but the skin around it was tender enough that he suspected that there was likely some tearing. He just wasn't about to strip now to find out.

He heard Knives walking towards him and opened his eyes a fraction, only to close them again when his brother passed him and crouched down by the unconscious men.

"Please don't," he said softly.

"Don't what?" asked Knives, breaking yet another man's arm.

"Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" Crack.

"You know what I mean. Don't," crack, "break their arms."

"I'm not doing this just for fun." Crack.

"That is incredibly wrong, foul, and disgusting." Crack.

"You forgot necessary." Crack.

"It isn't necessary! I'm sure," crack, "they've learned their lesson."

"Why?" Crack. "Because they lost? Does possessing," crack, "superior force make you right, Vash?" Crack. "Is that what you believe?" 

"No." Crack. "But surely they see now…" 

Crack. "See what?" Knives interrupted. "They aren't going to see anything but what they want to see," crack, "and they want to see us as a threat." Crack. "Personally, I don't care what they think, but I'm not," crack, "leaving crazed humans at my back with only," crack, "unconsciousness as my shield." Crack. "I'm not stupid."

"I'm not stupid!" his brother protested.

Crack. "Who's the one with the body covered with scars, and," crack, "who's isn't?

"That has nothing to do with this." Crack.

"Why not? It seems to have everything to do with this." Crack. "You are just too softhearted to do what is necessary to ensure your survival." Crack. "I am not." He stood up and brushed his hands together, trying to erase the feel of the humans' flesh beneath his hands. "Let's go."

Vash opened his eyes and tried to not look at the bodies on the ground. He had to see them to walk around them, but he tried to keep his gaze from lingering on the arms that bent just a little bit the wrong way. Swallowing heavily, he gingerly walked around them, boots barely touching the ground as he precariously tiptoed around the lax limbs.

Knives merely nudged the bodies out of the way, setting each foot down firmly whether he had to move an arm, a leg, or a head to do so.

"So now where do we go?" asked Vash after they turned a corner and the men were safely out of sight.

"We are obviously on the right track. No one sets up a trap like that along the wrong path."

"What do you mean?"

"They would expect that we would know where we are going, and set the trap along the projected route to our goal. So, obviously, we're going the right way."

"Oh. Nice of them to help us out, then."

"Surely not their intention."

"Anyway… Now where?" The corridor had opened up into another atrium, five other corridors branching off to unknown destinations.

"I don't think splitting up is a good idea," Knives mused. "That one," he pointed to the left, "would take us to the vehicle bay. We'll probably want to leave through there. That leaves these four to search." He looked at them, then pointed at the second one from the right. "There."

"Why?"

"The batch of labs along that corridor," he pointed to the far right, "are very convenient to the vehicles. Too much so to likely be abandoned. These back here are a bit less accessible."

"Ok. You're the expert on the layout of ships."

"I'm the expert on everything except making a fool of myself."

Vash shrugged, and they moved on.

Knives had been right in his choice of corridor, but even so, finding Kiley wasn't an easy task. There were many unused labs that had to be checked, each door accessed to discern what was on the other side. They looked into a lot of broom closets and empty rooms, past the ghosts of lab equipment unused and forgotten under dust cloths. Periodically, one or the other would cough, throat having become clogged with the thin film they disturbed with their passage. A less preoccupied mind might have felt the disturbed motes pretty, might have watched their passage under the lights on the ceiling with something approaching awe, but neither man did. There was no time. Minutes trickled by and became an hour, and Knives fought against a feeling of time being the enemy. The passage of seconds was not the danger, the humans were, and he had taken care of the humans.

Finally, they reached a lab near the end of the corridor that looked to have some recent use. Knives palmed open the door and looked inside. A bank of monitors had been set up, and all were focused on one subject. 

Kiley.

He reached out a hand and touched one as if he were touching her face and not a mere image, finger trailing lightly down her bruised visage. His heart clenched as he saw what had been done to her, the bruises on her face, the rags of her clothing, the blood on her thigh. He slowly lifted his hand from the monitor and moved out of Vash's way, ignoring his gasp of breath as he, too, took in what had been done to her.

Knives saw the door on the other side of the lab that looked to have been worked on most recently and strode determinedly over to it. He tried to open it, but it was stuck.

"Vash?" he called out demandingly, and his brother came over at a brisk jog, then lent a hand. They managed to drag the damaged door open enough for Knives to squeeze through, which he promptly did. 

Had he not been prepared for what he saw, he might have stopped when he first laid eyes on her, might have paused in shock that anyone could do what had been done to her to another soul. She looked awful, her eyes nearly devoid of life, of the vivacity that always filled them. She looked at him and tried to smile, her eyes regaining a glimmer of their sparkle, but the left side of her face wouldn't work right and she stopped trying. Then she frowned, and asked, "You didn't kill anyone, did you?"

Of all the words he had expected to hear, had hoped to hear… those weren't it. "Not yet," he replied with a scowl, and bent down to gently pick her up.


	35. Rescue

Whoa… dialogue heavy…

*******************************************************************************

"So, how've you been?" Anne croaked as she weakly batted away Knives' arms, trying instead to stand on her own.

"Life has been good. You?" He stepped back, face growing still as he tried to hide the hurt. 

"I've had better days," she admitted, throwing out an arm for support as her wounded leg threatened to crumble under her. Knives quickly moved back to help her, sliding one arm under her shoulders and taking a good deal of her weight as she leaned against him. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she fought pain with every slow, halting step.

For a whole seven steps.

Then Knives quickly leaned down, pulled her off her feet, and held her close to his chest.

"Hey, I can walk," she protested weakly.

"Yes. You have proven that. But we should get out of here before dawn, don't you think?"

"I'm not that slow," she mumbled.

"Yes, you are."

She relaxed in his arms, feeling safe and protected, relaxing her guard enough to enjoy the sensation of being rescued. Shifting her shoulders a fraction, she moved closer to him, close enough to bury her face in his chest.

He smelled good. She had forgotten just how good, and the reminder was heavenly.

"I bet you're mad at me," she said into his chest, voice muted.

"I have been."

"A lot?" she asked sadly.

"At times."

"Right now?"

"No. Not right now. Right now I'm merely annoyed."

"Are you going to shoot me? I shot you when I was annoyed."

"No. I'm not going to shoot you. Not right now, at least," he amended.

"Oh."

"Don't worry. Right now this is only a rescue."

"Oh."

A long, pregnant pause.

"What do you mean, oh?"

"I can't believe I need to be rescued. That's just… so very sad. I'm the rescuer, not the rescuee."

"Everyone gets an off day."

"It's been a rough… what day is it now?"

"Saturday."

"It's been a rough couple days."

"Looks like."

Anne fell silent again. There were a lot of things she wanted to say, wanted to ask. Most importantly, she wanted to know if he missed her at all, but the words got stuck in her throat when she tried to say them. 

"Take me home," she said instead.

"All right. We'll have to stop and get everyone, but we can be there soon."

She looked up at him, puzzled. "Are they close by? My apartment is only a few blocks away."

"Oh. No, they aren't that close. I thought you might have…" his voice trailed off.

"No. I didn't," she replied, figuring that he thought she had meant the ship. "I have a little place in the Rose Quarter."

"I see."

"For computer access."

"Oh."

"I'm a researcher," she explained.

"Oh, that's nice."

"Most days." She relaxed and let her head drop. It just took so much energy to try to stay awake, and he was swaying and rocking her as he walked…. She fought the threat of unconsciousness. She had to give directions to her place, or who knew where she would end up?

"What exit are we taking?" she asked, mind wandering to the need to give directions. 

"Vehicle bay."

"We don't need to steal another car," she said portentously. "I live closer than that." A pause. "We will want to turn… right."

"That is the way to the Rose Quarter."

"You know that?"

"I have been to December before."

"Oh. That's right, you're really old."

Vash laughed. She looked over Knives' shoulder and smiled at him. 

"Hi, Vash."

"Hello, Kiley."

"How've you been?"

"Good enough."

"How's the baby?"

"He's all grown up, much to Meryl's disgust. I think she wonders where her little boy went, some days."

"You had a boy? How nice. Does he look like you?"

Vash nodded. "But he has Meryl's eyes," he amended.

She smiled again and closed her eyes. 

When she opened them again, everything around them had changed. The walls of the plant no longer surrounded them, replaced instead by the walls of the buildings on the way to her place.

"Take a left at the next corner," she said, her voice cracking a little.

"You awake?"

"Of course," she said, a bit hurt. "I just took a little nap."

"Oh. Yes, a nap." 

She pretended that she didn't see the concerned look that Knives shot at Vash. She was fine. But she kept her eyes open, just in case. 

She directed them to her apartment building. Vash opened the outside door and held it for Knives to carry her through. The building was quiet, everyone asleep, and the plants cautiously crept up to the fifth floor.

"Damn," Anne said softly as they reached her door.

"What?" asked Knives.

"I don't have my keys."

"That's easily remedied," he said, then crouched down, resting her on one leg as he reclaimed his left arm. Sliding his fingers along the jam, he formed blades that sliced easily through the bolt. 

While he was doing that, Anne looked at Vash, noticing the sunglasses for the first time. "You guys were in a fight, weren't you?" she said, accusingly.

He rubbed the back of his head and ducked his neck. His eyes locked onto hers over the tops of his sunglasses, clearly embarrassed. "Yes," he said, tentatively.

"You said that no one was dead," she accused Knives.

"No one is. They will all heal. Eventually."

"What did he do?" she asked Vash.

"He broke their arms," he reported sadly.

"Which arm?"

"Right."

"Upper or lower."

"Lower."

"Good."

"What?"

"That'll heal up easily enough. Clean breaks?"

"Yes," said Knives with some asperity, tired of being talked around. "The humans will be fine," he reported as he slid his arm under her again and carried her over the threshold of her apartment. "Now worry about yourself."


	36. Healing

It's Roe's birthday!! Happy birthday Roe!!

*******************************************************************************

As he entered the living room, Knives looked around for some soft surface on which to put her. His glance took in the empty room and saw the sofa, but discarded it as too narrow for his purposes. The floor was bare enough, and might work, but would be very hard. The healing process would likely take hours, and if they had to spend them on a hardwood floor the result would not be entirely pleasant. Then he noted the portals on the walls of the room, one leading to a kitchen, the other guarded by a closed door. He moved aside to let Vash pass by and open the closed door, then nodded and followed when he saw it led to a bedroom.

He paused as he entered the doorway. That… was a large bed. A very large bed. It took up nearly the entire room, barely leaving enough space around it to fit an armoire and let the bathroom door open. He scowled at the bed, knowing that it was too large for one person. Why would a single woman need such a large bed?

Kiley sighed in his arms, and he was brought to the realization that he had tightened his grip. Relaxing, he entered the room and gently set her down on the too-large bed., then crawled up beside her. He took off his shoes and shirt, then carefully slipped his arms around her torso, hands coming to rest on her shoulders, forehead resting on the back of her skull. 

Vash took a bit longer to ready himself, having many more buckles to undo before he was suitably undressed. It was hard to not be impatient; he could feel how badly she was hurt and wanted to fix that right now. Only the knowledge that it would be much better for her if he waited for his brother's help forced him to keep from starting. 

He heard his brother sigh, felt the bed shift under his weight as he finally moved closer. Vash rested his hand on Kiley's forehead, and then the two entered trance together to heal her.

It came as a shock to both of them how bad her injuries were. Even if one ignored the hole in her leg, she was a mass of bruises, contusions, and cracked and broken bones. Given that there were two hundred and six bones in her body, it was still easier to count the unwounded ones than those that were harmed. Every bone in her skull had sustained some damage, only two ribs weren't cracked or broken, both clavicles had been snapped near the throat, three vertebrae were seriously damaged, four more were cracked, her pelvis was fractured in two places, and one of her thighbones had a stress fracture that was threatening to break the bone in two.

And she had wanted to walk out of the plant.

The damage was equally severe to her soft organs. Her liver was torn, her spleen was punctured, there was some minor kidney damage and bruising, and her lungs were beginning to fill with fluid. The cracks in her skull created pressure on her brain, swelling the tissues and reducing blood flow to a dangerous level. And then there were the copious bruises, some deep enough to stretch from skin to bone, a couple on her legs and back wider than his hand would be, even with fingers stretched to their maximum.

It was amazing that she was still alive. The pain alone must have been excruciating.

Knives could see where she had concentrated her efforts. The swelling around the skull was not as bad as it could have been; most of the bones had at least some sort of mental support around them, holding them stationary. She was doing a fairly decent job controlling both internal and external bleeding, forcing the blood to travel in it's accustomed paths regardless of what new holes it might have been able to migrate towards. 

It was a very good job of prioritizing repairs, and had she been less wounded she might have been able to heal herself without any outside help. But the sheer number of problems was overwhelming, was more than she had the energy to fight. 

Knives' task was to repair the soft tissues while Vash's was to heal the bones, but before they could help, they needed to convince Kiley to let them. She had such a tight hold on her repairs that they could not get in there to aid her. Worse, she seemed reluctant to let them help, her mind drawing away from theirs as they offered release from the pain. She was drawn close around something, some old pain, and Knives slowly tried to coax the reason out of her.

She was afraid, very afraid, mind huddled around memories of the last time she had hurt this badly. She had died, had given up on living and just let go. The memories she held tight were very specific instances of pain taken, bones broken and bruises given. She shuddered away from the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, but refused to let them take over the task of healing her.

Knives sighed and snuggled closer, carefully molding his body to hers, radiating heat and love, hoping that she would take what was offered soon, unwilling to come this close and still lose her. Vash moved closer as well, hand sliding down to cradle her cheek, trying to let her know without words that she was safe here, that she could let them help her, and that everything would be alright. 

With a soft sigh, she finally relaxed, her mind passing control over her healing into the willing hands that cradled her. With a sense of relief that was quickly subsumed by the daunting size of their task, the plants set to work.


	37. A wonderful night

Ok, this is a bit short… but it was, at one point, only 300 words. 

********************************************************************************

Anne lay between them, delighting in the heat that radiated off their bodies, luxuriating in it. She was cold, so cold, and they were so warm and wonderful. And healing her. That in and of itself was a wonderful concept. Someone cared enough about her to work to keep her alive. Healing wasn't easy, not on the healer. It required a great degree of skill and concentration, and an even greater expenditure of energy on the part of the healer than one might expect. And there were two people willing to work that hard on her behalf. Two people who cared enough about her that they didn't want her to die.

What a lovely concept. So new, so wonderful. Was this what is was like, to have friends? A family? It was nice. She could get used to something like this.

She wondered if they had any idea how incredibly intimate a healing could be. Feeling someone else's energies pooling under your skin, cradling you, helping you… There was a reason that she always knocked people out before she healed them, and it wasn't because healing hurt. It was just… slightly embarrassing to be that close to someone that you might not even know. And even when she did know them, it was still embarrassing. Too close, too much of herself was exposed. It's easiest to not be hurt if no one knows what will hurt you. It was no fun to heal someone that you know hated you, hated the thought of you. To be that close to someone who loathed you was a horrible thing indeed. It was much safer to just knock them out and not have to deal with the consequences of getting close to someone. Of getting close to anyone.

Vaguely, she acknowledged that she might have some intimacy issues.

Whether or not they knew how close they were to her, they were being very gentle. She didn't know if it was on purpose, or if they were just being extra careful because they hadn't had much practice. She smiled lazily, basking under their ministrations. She had known how badly off she was; how could she not? But she had been handling it. Mostly. Ok, maybe she had been dying. But she wasn't now. Now she felt good. How could you not feel wonderful when two gorgeous men were holding you and trying to make you feel better? And when one of them was the man you loved? 

Some of her good mood could be ascribed to the lack of pain, as one of the first things that Knives had done was block off the receptors in her brain. She went from excruciating pain to nothing at all. That would be enough to put anyone in a good mood. But, even better, he had flooded her system with endorphins, and she just felt all lazy and happy. If she had been asked to create her own personal heaven, this might have come close to her design. Only… without Vash. And with her more… mobile. But, all things considered, and given where she was just a few hours ago, life was good. For one sweet, wonderful stretch of time, life was wonderful.

Some things should never end, and yet, all things do.

After a few hours, Knives finished up his task of patching her back together. Vash was still working on her legs as he pulled his mind out and opened his eyes. Anne pressed a little closer to him, finally warm enough now to radiate heat instead of just sucking it off of him and Vash. He slipped his hands from her shoulders and rolled over, pressing his back to hers before passing out.

She blinked, unsure of that reaction. Didn't he… want to hold her? Was he that mad? Did he hate her that much for what she had done? No, he had probably decided that whatever feelings he might have had for her were a temporary madness. That her leaving had been a good thing, giving him time to realize just what a mistake he had been making. All the arguments she had told herself when years passed and he had never shown up, never followed after her crashed down on her in an instant. 

She sighed and bit her lip. Probably. They were probably going to all this trouble because she was just a plant. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Fine. So what if she was? So what if that was the only reason Knives cared about her at all? That was fine. She could handle that. She had been coping with that concept for years, so why did it bother her even more now that it looked like it was true? Was it so hard for her to be right? 

Only a moron would like a person like her, anyway. And Knives wasn't stupid.

She mentally listed all her faults, going down the well-worn list and agonizing over all the flaws in her character. Liar. Killer. Unable to get close to people. Social misfit. Coward. It was no wonder people didn't like her, that no one wanted to get close to her, or ran away when they realized what she was. She would run away, too, but that was never an option. Wherever she went, she was always there. Polluting the area with her presence.

Sniff.

Vash finished up and pulled away from her as well, rolling over before he fell asleep, unconscious in an instant. She felt very alone in her bed, nestled between two people who would work so hard to save her, then leave her to cry alone.


	38. Lost

*sings the angst song*

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When Knives woke up he was surprised to find that it was already past noon. The sunlight that had been threatening to spill in the window when he finally succumbed to sleep had some and passed them by completely. All that came in the window was light reflected off the roof of the building next to them, leaving the room dim. He was even more surprised to see that he was the first one awake. The sound of his brother's snoring filled the room, a soft, repetitive sound that was entirely comforting and usual in this strange place. He carefully rolled over and looked at the other people on the bed. Vash had somehow managed to sprawl out over half the bed, arms and legs akimbo, mouth open, and still managing to somehow look angelic. Running one hand through his horrible bed hair, he wondered anew how his brother managed. No matter how short he kept his hair it still snarled and poked up in odd places, but Vash could grow his hair to his shoulders and never have a snarl. It wasn't fair. He had one accused Meryl or brushing it while he slept, but he knew that was false. His brother's hair was perfect, just like his brother. And his hair was horrible, just like him.

He carefully propped himself up on one arm so he could see Kiley's face, and his heart lurched when he saw that she had been crying. Her lips were slightly pursed, and her breath whistled through them, but his vision was caught not on their inviting shape, but on the evidence of her misery.

Was she so upset to see them? Was their coming after her so wrong? She had never come back to the ship, and was it really because she had never wanted to see them again? Even when the option was capture and torture, she had chosen to remain away. Was that a clue? He remembered how tense she had gotten last night when he slipped his arms off her shoulders and rolled over and put his back to hers. He could still feel her stiffen against his back before she slowly relaxed against him. He had worried that holding her as they slept was too intimate, but was even sleeping next to her too much? 

She must hate him. Months and then years had passed, and he told himself that she must be busy, must be doing something important somewhere very far away. And then it turned out she was working in a plant, in December. Not that far away at all; maybe a week's worth of travel time if she walked. And working in a plant, of all places. Why? Why add to the suffering of her family? Was it not enough that the humans worked to drain the life from them, that they had to have one of their own help?

If she had cared at all, she would have come back at some point. He had to accept this. That she hadn't was evidence enough that she had left them, and wanted to stay away. She had looked to start a new life on this world, and it was hubris to assume that it needed to include him because it had started in his ship. It was her fresh beginning, and she could do with it what she pleased. If that didn't include him, well, that was entirely his fault. He had been given the first chance with her by whoever had put her here, and he had messed it up. 

His gaze shifted from her face and traveled around the room. The room was so bare, so devoid of anything to give him a clue to her new life. There were no pictures on the walls, no knickknacks resting atop the armoire, save for a dried bouquet of flowers hanging from one corner. He wondered who had given them to her, and if he could kill him. He wondered if he had been invited into this room, onto this bed. This bed was too large for one person. She probably had found someone new, someone to share this bed with. Someone who didn't hit her, someone who wasn't cold, or cruel. Someone who wasn't him. But try as he might, he couldn't put a face to this new man. He didn't know if that was because he lacked imagination, or if it was because, after putting a face to his replacement, even a hypothetical one, his heart might break.

He had hoped while in the ship that she had thought of him the way that he had thought of her, that she might have waited for him, but he hadn't really expected her to. She was too intelligent to settle for someone like him. He sat and watched her sleep, and remembered all the times he had screwed up where she was concerned, all the things he had done that had made her decide that spending any time near him was a bad idea. 

He had to stop his hand as he found himself reaching out towards her, aching to wipe away the tracks the tears had traced down her face. Her cheek looked so soft, so sweet, her visage so gentle in repose that his heart ached even more. The pain she suffered was his fault. She had stayed behind because of him, and this was the result. The broken body that he and Vash had worked so hard to fix? His fault. If only things could be different, if only he could somehow go back in time and convince her to not leave. Every now and then, he could pretend that he hadn't lost her, but seeing her now he knew that he had. He had once held this, once had the right to be there if she was crying , but had lost it. 

And he had no one to blame but himself.


	39. Breakfast

This is a little less depressing. 

*******************************************************************************

Knives would have sat and watched her sleep longer, but his body was stridently informing him that he had been asleep long enough for him to need to take care of a few things now that he was awake. With a soft sigh, he carefully rolled out of the bed and entered the bathroom.

After the bland décor of the bedroom he was surprised to see that it was a very girly bathroom. There were matching burgundy towels, and a shower curtain that matched the towels, or vice versa. He couldn't quite tell. There were cute little tiny curtains of a light green, which was one of the colors present in the pattern on the shower curtain. These were edged with some very frilly lace in a color that wasn't really a color, and wasn't white either. There was a rug on the floor that matched the color of the rings that held up the shower curtain, and he wondered idly if women were genetically inclined to decorate in the most senseless way possible. If the room needed color, pick one. There was no need for all these almost matching things. Although, he thought as he looked around, it did end up looking rather nice. If girly.

He washed his hands, using the overly floral scented soap, then wondered how he was supposed to dry them. He knew that if he dared touch the pretty towels with his wet hands that he would never hear the end of it, but there didn't seem to be anything else around. He searched a bit, but after finding a box of things that no man should ever have to see, he gave up and wiped the remaining moisture off on his pants. 

His stomach had rumbled a few times while he searched, so his next stop was the kitchen. He paused in the living room, contrasting its austerity with the decorated bathroom. The only thing in the room was the beige couch against the far wall. There were no tables, no pictures on the walls, nothing. No evidence of anyone else spending a great deal of time here, either, which heartened him. But all in all, he was puzzled. Why spend so much effort on a room in which you spend so little time, and leave this room bare? 

Shaking his head, he walked into the kitchen and looked about. Aside from an old coffee cup by the sink, the room was spotless. There were no dishes drying in the rack by the sink, no pots or pans out on the counter, no crumbs on the floor, nothing. He frowned, puzzled, then smirked a bit as he saw the plant sitting in a corner. A geranium. How droll. 

He looked back at the counter, mind caught by what he saw there. 

Cake. A big, fresh looking chocolate cake.

He wanted that cake.

He was very glad that she had that cake.

But he knew if he touched that cake, he was a dead man.

Women didn't keep deserts around to eat. They kept them around to look pretty on special occasions. If he dared to take a slice of that, she would storm into the kitchen and start yelling. He knew that.

But the temptation was hard to resist. 

With a sigh, he turned to look through the cupboards. He ended up finding a bow of stale cereal and a bowl. He had opened the refrigerator and picked up the milk, but when he shook the carton lumps sloshed about inside, and he set it back down. He rummaged in the drawers for a few minutes, finally found a spoon, and sat on the counter and poured a bowl.

It was not the best meal he had ever eaten, but it did quiet his complaining stomach. He was still slowly working on his first bowl when Kiley walked in.

She had pulled on an oversized cream sweatshirt, and had shimmied out of the torn and bloodied pants, but hadn't replaced them with anything. He was momentarily distracted by the length of leg that emerged from under the bottom of the shirt, but averted his eyes as quickly as possible and tried to not blush. 

"You know," she said, eyeing the bowl, "you could have had some cake, instead. I mean, if you don't think that cake is a breakfast food, that's fine, but… I mean… you can have some, if you want."

Hastily, he put the bowl aside and reached in a cupboard behind him for a plate. "I would love some cake," he said seriously.

She lifted the glass top, grabbed a knife, and cut a generous slice, dropping it on Knives' plate when he handed it to her. She read the lost look on his face correctly and found him a fork, then smiled at the expression on his face when he took the first bite. 

"It's still warm!" he said before shoving the next bite in.

"Stasis field," she explained simply. "The donuts are still fresh, too," she said, pointing at the box near the refrigerator. 

He nodded, but since he was still heartily applying himself to the task of eating, said nothing. She shrugged, then walked over to where he was sitting. She paused next to him, then jumped up and sat next to him on the counter. Her sweatshirt momentarily hiked up enough for Knives to catch a flash of white panties, but she thankfully pulled it down before he choked. 

He swallowed his last bite, very aware of how close she was sitting to him, and wishing that she would lean up against him. She seemed nervous to be near him, but had washed the traces of last night's tears from her face. They sat in silence for a few moments, neither quite sure what to say.

Then Knives spoke. "I guess we leave after Vash wakes up," he commented softly.

Kiley started next to him, body tensing with shock. "Leave?" She looked at him incredulously. "I'm not going anywhere."


	40. Explanation

I'm trying to move past some of the angst, honest.

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"What do you mean by that?" Knives asked, forcing himself to sound calm while his heart jumped into his throat.

"I mean I'm not going anywhere," she repeated. 

"Are you crazy? I'm sure it's only a matter of hours before they come after us here. We need to get going, quickly. Unless… you were planning something in the way of retaliation?" he amended, eyeing her speculatively.

"Um, no," she said. "But I can't just up and leave whenever I feel like it. Unlike either of you two, I actually have a job. And it's sort of an important one."

Knives' eyes narrowed as he was reminded of where she worked. He shifted his plate from his lap to the counter as he commented, "Yes. Helping the humans suck the blood of your sisters is very important. Quite worth your life."

She flinched at the anger in his tone. "That's not what I'm doing," she protested. 

"What are you doing? What was so important that you had to stay here every day for the past four years, leaving Vash and I trapped behind that obnoxious barrier?"

"I'm part of a research team that's exploring optional sources of energy. Solar power, or stellar, since Sol is earth's star, but everyone still calls it solar power," she babbled before getting her mouth under control. "Anyway, we think we've finally come up with a viable supplement to plant power."

"Supplement? Not a replacement. Just a way to let the humans eke more out of the lives of your family," he accused.

She flinched again. "I'm trying, Knives. I'm looking for a solution to a problem, and I since I seem to be the only one trying, forgive me if it's taking some time," she said, sarcasm touching her words as she laced her fingers together and placed them in her lap. "I know it's not an answer. I probably know just how much of an answer it isn't even better than you.

"The plants are dying, Knives. Anyone can see it; the people I work with see it. Plants weren't made to support an entire ecosystem. They're getting tired, getting very tired right when the human population has begun to grow again. Ideally, solar power will be the answer, but it's going to take time to get the infrastructure in place."

"And while you're playing with sunbeams, more plants die."

"I know that!" she exploded, hands flying out of her lap and gripping the edge of the counter, knuckles white as she struggled to control her temper. "I know that," she repeated, "but I'm not the one who wasted 150 years on a solution that wasn't working."

"Are you suggesting that this is in any way my fault."

"Suggesting? No. I'm saying that flat out. Things would be better now if you had thought past your fear and tried to make things work between humans and plants. We really aren't as different as you'd like to believe."

He sighed. "I know. Alex's birth if nothing else drove that home." He looked at her sadly. "Damn you for that, anyway. If not for you, I would never have known…"

"Yeah. I know. Blame the messenger."

They fell silent for a moment.

"Why… why didn't you tell me you were a plant?" asked Knives after a few minutes. 

"I didn't know, not at first. I found out after Meryl shot me. When I healed myself," he nodded, and she continued. "And then you guys seemed to be ignoring me, and were all concerned over Ace, and it just wasn't the time to burst out with my revelation. And then you and she… left, and when I chased after you, well, you know what happened."

"So when you saw Shamra?" he prompted.

She shrugged awkwardly. "It's not an easy thing, to think that you're one thing, then find out you are another. I wasn't reacting to her, but to what of me I saw in her. If that makes any sense." She huddled in on herself, shoulders hunched, hands buried between her knees. "And add to that the fact that I started having to really deal with the aftermath of that whole tortured to death thing, well… I just couldn't cope with everything all at once. And I don't trust you enough to have a nervous breakdown around you. I just don't. Especially not if you knew I was a plant. You'd just sit there and try to make me who you thought I should be, your perfect little soldier in your pointless war, and I don't know… that I was going to be strong enough to handle that."

"I thought that you hadn't been broken," he floundered. "You said you had died defiantly?"

"I did. I wasn't broken. But… I was… cracked. You don't survive over a year of torture and not have bits and pieces broken off of you. And when I first came here, I was ok. I was free, happy, I had escaped. And then you were chasing me, and that was fun. I mean, you are a bit of a bastard, but I'm a bitch, so things worked out there. But then things got more serious, and then I wasn't able to ignore everything that had happened to me. Even if I hadn't just found out I wasn't as human as I thought I was, I think that as soon as I tried to actually sit down and make a life that I was going to encounter that little problem. And when I couldn't ignore the pain anymore, I knew I had to face it. But not around you. I wasn't going to be weak around you. 

"So I left, ran away like a coward. I needed space to deal with my past, and figure out my own future."

One without me in it, Knives thought, but didn't say.


	41. Expounding

Who me? Sleep? It happens every now and then; sad, I know.

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She took a moment to collect herself, then shook her head and continued. "Besides, running away now, it would be like I was ashamed of being a plant. Or that being a plant is such a big, awful deal that I need to be scared that I've been found out."

"You… ran away from me because you are a plant, but you're staying now because you are one? I'm not quite sure I follow."

She shrugged uneasily. "It's just, I don't feel that I should have to run. I didn't do anything wrong, didn't hurt anyone by being a plant. If I run away now, it's like saying that they are right to think that being a plant is such a great big deal, that it's a difference between them and me that's insurmountable."

He looked at her incredulously. "They tried to kill you. I don't think that keeping yourself from being put in that situation again is admitting anything wrong. Besides, they're just humans. That's more than just a little difference. We may seem similar, but only a fool thinks we're entirely alike."

"We are alike, Knives. That's what I'm saying, that's why I'm staying. I don't feel that they have the right to do whatever they please, to mistreat people just because they are a bit different. And it's not me I'm worried about, not really. What about the next kid in Ace's position? Taken from the bulb and experimented on like a thing instead of a person?"

"Exactly the reason to not go. They don't see you as a person. They nearly killed you. Staying is entirely illogical; what can you do now to change their opinion of you that you haven't done in the past few years?"

She shrugged again. "I don't know. But I know that running away isn't the answer. Not for me, not for anybody. It's not the right response."

He snarled wordlessly, staring off into an unoccupied corner of the room as he tried to stop reacting to what she said and start thinking. To stay was wrong, horribly wrong. They all needed to go back to the ship, where it was safe, where he could keep her… where they could all have the time and space that they needed to come to terms with her being a plant. To accept that she was not going to die on him as soon as Meryl was going to grow old and die.

He pushed away that thought and the relief that it brought. "They tried to kill you," he pointed out again. "Putting yourself back into that situation seems to be… idiotic."

"Actually, they didn't. The only person who touched me was Mark. And he has a good reason to not like me much. Besides, I have decided that the super-passive resistance may not be the correct path to follow. I think… I'll go with just not letting them touch me." She shrugged once more. "I should be safe enough."

"Mark? You know your torturer by name? That will make him easy for me to find, at least." He looked thoughtful, and Anne shot him a dirty look.

"You don't even think of touching him," she growled. "He's the one whose cousin I killed. And managed to cripple. No thanks to you."

Knives blinked, then leaned back a little as he tried to follow the turn in the conversation. "Oh. Yes, the gun thing," he said after a managed to puzzle out her reference. "So, he was one of the ones sent after Ace, right?"

She glared at him. "Yes, that gun thing, you prick."

He looked at her, puzzled. "What?"

"I've been beating myself up ever since I met what was left of his family because I had a hand in his demise, and you dismiss it as that gun thing. You have no idea how frustrating that is."

He mimicked her shrug. "One less human. It's not a big deal."

"I'd like to introduce you to his orphaned daughters, then. Or his mother, one of the sweetest ladies I have ever met, and I want you to see that look that comes on her face, that sad one she gets when she remembers that she no longer has a son. And then you tell me that it's so great that another human is dead," she said, sarcasm twisting her last words.

Vash walked into the kitchen then, rubbing at his eyes. "You guys are getting a little loud," he cautioned, his voice sleepy. Then his gaze was caught by Anne's legs. All of Anne's legs. He blushed and did his best to look elsewhere in the kitchen. "Aww," he commented as he saw the plant. "I love geraniums. They were Rem's favorite flower, you know."

"I know. I bought them because they made me think of you," she said simply. She carefully didn't say that in the language of flowers they meant folly. Just because that was another reason she thought of him when she saw the plant didn't mean it was polite to say so. "There are donuts in a box by the refrigerator," she continued.

Vash's eyes lit up and he dove for the box as if someone was trying to beat him to it. Tearing the cover off, he reverently lifted a glazed confection, his eyes glittering as he examined it before shoving it gleefully in his mouth. Chewing happily, he turned to the two and asked, "So, when do we leave?"

"We don't," they replied in unison, Anne simply, and Knives with a large degree of asperity.

"She's staying," Knives expounded after seeing his brother's slightly puzzled expression. 

"I have a job," she explained simply. "And it's not one I can really run away from."

"Oh." He swallowed. "So…" He looked puzzled.

"So we're moving in," Knives told him, his scowl deepening on his face. "To keep little Miss Optimistic here alive long enough for me to say I-told-you-so."


	42. Regrowth

And the story rolls on…..

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"Oh," said Vash a few times. He looked at Anne for some sort of confirmation, that what Knives ordered was okay with her, but she merely shrugged. "All of us?" he asked uneasily.

Knives scowled at his brother. "Unless you have something infinitely more pressing."

Vash looked over his shoulder, his gaze taking in almost all of the apartment. "Do you think we'll all fit in here? I mean, it's kinda small for six people."

"I don't expect that it will take that long for her to be proved completely wrong in her optimism. We should be able to manage."

"Oh," Vash repeated, clearly at a loss. Then he sighed. "And I had looked forward to getting to catch up with Millie." He adopted a hangdog expression. "I missed her letters so much," he whined. He ate another donut, then said, "I guess I'll go get them after breakfast."

"Or you could call," Anne pointed out. "The miracle of phone service. Millie has my address; I'm sure she can direct everyone here."

Vash shifted from foot to foot uneasily. "But… there could be bandits on the road. Or they could get lost. Or any sorts of lots of things could happen." He thumped the hand that wasn't holding the box of donuts on his chest. "Yes! I shall go and lead them here so that they may arrive safe and sound!" His expression grew very serious, then he turned and dashed back to the bedroom, shoving another donut in his mouth.

Anne laughed. Knives rolled his eyes. "I swear, I'm surprised he could pull himself from that woman's side long enough to rescue you."

"I think it's cute."

"After four years, it's nauseating."

"Ah, see? I have the benefit of not having seen it too much, then."

"A long with many other things."

She sighed. "Yeah. That, too."

They heard something bump, and Vash moan that he was wounded, ouch ouch ouch, but neither moved from the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back in, body armor and boots dangling from one hand, the box of donuts in the other, and a sheepish expression on his face. "Hit my head," he explained.

"Bed didn't move," Anne pointed out. "You might have spent a moment or two noticing where it was before you tried furniture relocation with your head."

He smiled a little at that, then dropped his stuff on the floor. He carefully set the box of donuts on the counter, then whirled and placed both hands on Anne's knee. Very decorously placed, considering that she wasn't wearing pants. His palms cupped her kneecaps, fingers lightly touching the tops of her legs. He dropped to his knees, eyes shining as he looked up at her. 

"Can I… take the donuts?" he asked.

She laughed, and took his hands in hers. "They're all yours," she chuckled, then cradled the prosthetic in both her hands. She turned it over and passed her palm over his, then started to play with the fingers.

"This is a pretty good arm. You expect it to be warm, it looks so lifelike." She played with the fingers, crossing the first two and smiling to herself.

A pained smile flitted across Vash's face, and he obviously wanted to take his hand back but was too polite to say so. Anne spent another couple of seconds playing with his fingers, moving the knuckles and running her fingers lightly over the back of his hand before letting go. Vash curled his hand into a fist and dropped it by his side, half-hiding it behind his back. 

"You ever think about regrowing that?" she asked, cocking her head to the left as she looked at him.

"Wha?" he uttered coherently.

"Regrowing it. I mean, you could. Technically. It would take a while, though. I once regrew a finger," she said reminiscently, wiggling the pinky on her left hand. "It took me a month and hurt like hell, but I had all of my hand back." She looked at him straight on. "You should give it a try."

"Regrow my arm," he repeated, looking at her like she was mad. "What are you, an iguana?"

She mock glared at him. "No, lizard brain, but it's the same type of deal as regular healing. You take stem cells and force them to become bone, or muscle, or flesh. Really, the only limiting factor to the regrowth is that it takes a while to get all the necessary vitamins and minerals for that much flesh. Just the amount of calcium you need for that much bone is slightly daunting," she mused.

Vash was edging away during her speech, and took advantage of the pause to grab his boots and dash into the living room to put them on. Anne grinned at his retreating back.

"He really isn't doing a very good job of accepting what he is, is he?"

Knives shook his head. "He always wants to pretend that he's human."

Anne chuckled. "Why? There are so many benefits to being a plant."

Knives turned to look at her. "I thought… you don't mind being a plant?"

She shrugged. "There are a few thing s that weird me out still, like that whole angel arm thing. I'm not sure that I'm comfortable with the idea of being a bit of a shapeshifter, but given the option, I'd much rather be a plant than a regular human. There's just more I can do, this way. Actually, I think if I couldn't heal, or do any of my fun little tricks I'd just go mad."

He shook his head. "I don't think I will ever understand you."

"Don't worry," she said with a grin. "No man understands women."

He scowled again. "That isn't what this is about."

She laughed. "That's always what it's about."


	43. Puzzle

Yup… I skipped another day. Somehow, I fell asleep and didn't wake up until it was today.

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"I'm going now," called Vash from the living room.

"Ok, have fun!" Anne called back, but didn't move to see him off. Knives didn't say a word, and after a few moments, they could hear Vash sigh and exit the room. They sat in silence for a few minutes, then Anne slid off the counter and left the room. Knives followed a few steps after her.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to take a shower and get dressed. If I'm going to be hosting you guys for any length of time, I'm going to have to go shopping, and I can't do that in my pajamas."

"That's your pajamas?"

She paused at the door to the bedroom and looked over her shoulder at him. "And what's wrong with my pajamas?" she asked archly.

"Uh… nothing. I just expected, well…" he sputtered.

"Lingerie is nice, but it's more of a toy than general sleepwear."

"That wasn't what I was saying!" he protested.

"What were you saying?"

"Just… that… it's…" He paused, searching for words. "It looks very comfortable," he finished up carefully.

She laughed, and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

He sighed, then looked around the bare living room again. He paced over to the couch and flopped down on it, then looked at the blank wall and wondered what he was doing here. This wasn't going at all like he had thought it would. For one thing, Kiley hadn't thrown herself into his arms in gratitude. He had kind of hoped that would be the case. For another, they were sticking around. He didn't know what impulse had urged him to insist on staying in a city full of humans, but strangely he didn't really regret it. 

He ended up staring at the door to the bedroom, thinking about Kiley. She had changed in the past few years. It wasn't just that her hair was longer, or that she had put on a few pounds. It was more… there was a peace around her that hadn't been there when she had been in his ship. A calmness that hadn't been there. It was hard to define, hard to place words around, like many things about her. It wasn't a stillness; she had always seemed very still, very silent until prodded otherwise. 

Her story about needing time to rediscover herself made sense. From what of her memories she had shared with him, she had not had an easy time in her past life, and anyone might need a break from those memories, she would. But her reasons for not coming back seemed very specious to him. Any research that she might be performing with those humans at the plant would be much better performed back at his ship. 

He could think of many reasons why. For one thing, no number of mere humans could ever hope to rival the intelligence of a plant. That alone was a telling reason in his mind why she should have returned. Waiting for the slow humans to appreciate and comprehend her brilliance must have been tiring. For another, there were more resources for development and testing at his ship. He had removed or altered very few components in the last 150 years; the December ship had been scavenged since its fall. 

Had she returned, this project would likely have been finished already, already helping his tortured sisters. 

He wondered if she could hear them screaming. While he was in the plant, their voices teased at him, pleaded with him to make the pain stop. How could she bear to work there, listening to their pain day in and day out, or even worse, how could she ignore it? 

He shifted on the couch and felt something hard beneath him. He slid a hand between the cushions and pulled out her computer. He set the small box on his lap and powered it up, viewing the start-up procedure on the holographic monitor with disinterest. He pulled up the file with the most recent activity and was rewarded with the schematic that Anne had been pouring over a few days ago.

He snorted as he viewed the power linkages. That would never hold the gain, but would blow within a few hours as the couplings overheated. Narrowing his eyes and shifting his weight forward, he began manipulating the drawing, running variant after variant in search of one that would work.

Vaguely, he was aware of Kiley exiting the bedroom and coming over to sit by him. She smelled wet, her hair smelling something like flowers would smell like, if designed by a man with no sense of smell. She leaned over to look at what he was doing, and he sneezed.

"I tried that one," she said after a moment. "But look at this bit here," she pointed to a few transistors in the upper corner. "They can't handle the load you just routed there, and there's no way we could redesign it to make them large enough to do so."

"Hmm," he responded, then erased his changes. "This is a tricky piece of work."

"I know. It's had me stumped for a couple days. One of the guys at work pulled the board from a servo computer, and if I can get it to work we have plenty of boards for the new app. He thought it would work as is, but luckily someone else caught the problem here," she pointed to the original linkage problem, "and had it routed to me to fix."

"I'm not sure this board is going to be fixable."

"It has to be. It's pretty much our last option where we have any real stock on hand. Here, you look it over and see if you can come up with anything while I go get some groceries and a couple more towels."

He looked up at her as she stood. "By yourself?"

She shrugged. "Public places; I should be fine. These people aren't any quicker to draw attention to the existence of plants than you are."

"Don't expect me to rescue you again," he grumbled as he turned back to the problem. 

"I never expect anything from you," she said with a sad smile.


	44. Shopping

Big note at the bottom.

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Anne returned to her apartment house, arms laden down with packages. Knives greeted her at the door to the building, a disgruntled look on his face and two bundles at his feet.

"I thought I should get our stuff out of the car before it was reclaimed by those who work at the plant," he said, forestalling her question.

"Good planning," she said as she fumbled at the pocket of her jacket for her keys. "No need to have the guys going through your bags to find out what sort of socks you prefer."

"Ha ha." He scowled as she turned the key in the lock. "Why do they feel the need to lock you out of your own building?" he complained.

"It's so the average man on the street, much like you, can't just wander on in and set up residence in the stairwell."

"Oh, like that's a common occurrence," he said sarcastically as she opened the door. He swept in as she struggled to hold it open, then started up the stairs as she moved her packages in the door.

"Actually," she mumbled under her breath, more because she felt the need to whine then because there was any chance he might hear her. "It happened just earlier this year. I'm sure you realized that the locks on the door are new, and I guess I won't bore you with the story of how one of the guys who had moved in thought that I might be easy prey or how I proved him wrong. You obviously don't care, or might have stayed around long enough for me to talk to you, or even help me with these damn packages." The bag holding the bread tore as she tried to drag it to the stairs. Knives was long gone, unable to hear her diatribe had he even cared to. 

She closed her eyes and tried to not curse out loud. 

"Are you coming?" drifted down Knives' voice. "I'm locked out here as well."

She snarled at the floor, then tossed her keys up to him and went to pick up what had fallen out of the bag. She spent a few minutes trying to even things out between bags, but gave up trying to fit the eggs somewhere. They were tucked underneath her arm, the rest of the bags hoisted in her hands, and she attacked the stairs.

When she got to her floor, the door was closed and locked.

Feeling slightly foolish but mostly angry, she knocked.

Knives answered the door in just a little over a minute. "Sorry. Bathroom," he explained as she glared at him.

"That was petty," she said as she swept past him.

He ignored that and followed her into the kitchen. "What did you buy?"

"Food. Towels. A couple more pillows; I didn't have enough."

"Pillowcases?"

"No. Damn; and the store is closed. Oh, well. They'll still work."

"The rest of the family shouldn't arrive before tomorrow. You'll have time to buy some."

She rolled her eyes as she put things in the refrigerator. Did he not understand the concept of a store? She had to work.

"I thought you were working on a solution," she said, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, that," he said offhandedly. "I fixed it."

She set the last item in the fridge and closed it. "Let me see," she demanded.

He walked into the living room and she followed. As the computer powered up, he asked her, "You keep referring to the people at the plant as they. Who exactly are they?"

"I'm not entirely sure. For the most part, I don't want to know, but from what I've gathered, they are a bunch of people who are dedicated to making sure that all plants stay in bulbs. And that those who are out of the bulbs, like you, Vash, Ace, and I guess me, too, are killed."

Knives sat back in the couch. "And you didn't think that this was worthy of your notice? That's all you know?"

"Not all. I mean, I know a couple people who are in it, and I think I know a couple more members, but I'm really not that interested in their agenda."

"They want to kill you, and you don't care."

She sighed. "It's… While I wasn't obviously a plant, they weren't a threat. And I didn't want to see them as a threat. I guess I felt that paying any sort of attention to them validated them, but if I ignored them, then they would be harmless."

"A very self-centered view of the problem. As if your acknowledgement of their existence was all that kept them from being a threat," he sneered.

She sighed and threw herself next to him on the couch. "I had other things I was thinking about. I didn't want to start worrying about some nebulous group that wants to kill me. I want there to _be _no nebulous group that want to kill me, want it so badly that I was willing to ignore a potential risk just so I could go on pretending that my life wasn't totally screwed up beyond belief."

"Is that how you view being a plant? As an inconvenience?"

"I told you, I like being a plant. I'm just tired if there always being these annoying complications to my attempts to live a normal life."

"A superior being should not desire a normal life. I do not."

"You like having enemies? I guess a paranoid like you enjoys having them about to validate his delusions."

"I am not delusional. Humans are a dangerous aberration that need to be eradicated from the face of the planet."

"That's what they say about us. Maybe you're both right, did you ever think about that?"

He sniffed and pulled up the new schematic.

"Here. I fixed your silly problem. Now are you willing to stop this nonsense and return to where it's safe?"

"As if anywhere with you could be classified as safe," she shot back, leaning over to see what changes he had made.

********************************************************************************

Ok, let me just end this with a bit of a whine. I've been having a tough month (long story, short part is less cash coming in than going out) and I *really* look forward to reviews. They make my day. Then, when I don't get any, I get even more depressed. And when I'm depressed, I don't really feel like writing. So if you think that updates have been a bit sporadic this past week, yeah, they have been. I've found other things with which to occupy my hours than working on a fic that I *feel* no one looks at. I mean, mentally, I'm sure it's being read. But there's this part in my heart that sees no reviews and is sure that I have bored you all away.

On another note, let me know if you want me to keep going. I have a lot more to this story to tell, with more angst and good stuffs if anyone really cares to read.

Ja ne.


	45. Awkward moment

*cries* Thanks, guys. *sniffles* I feel better now. It's like Eriks said… I eat reviews. And now I'm full and happy!!

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"Hmm," she said, elbows on knees as she peered at the altered schematic. A minute passed and she said nothing more, just continued to stare.

"Well?" prompted Knives, still waiting for his praise.

"It almost works," she said simply. "I'm trying to make it work all the way."

"What doesn't work?" he asked, affronted.

"Here," she said, pointing to something on the right edge. "You have more energy going out than the component that it's hooked to is geared to handle."

"I do not."

She shrugged, and continued to stare. He looked closer at what she had pointed out. "I do," he admitted grudgingly. "Damn it."

She smiled and chuckled. "That's what I've been saying for days now. But no, I like this. I think you're on the right track here; you just got sidetracked by this bit of genius down here," she said pointing to the bottom left quadrant. "That's very nice. Elegant even."

"But worthless."

"Stop that. No, what if we move this here…" she leaned a bit forward and shifted something on the top right.

"But then this here is off," pointed out Knives, reaching over her back to shift something to the left of her.

She scooted closer to him to reach something else, shifting its place on the board as Knives fiddled with what he had seen. They finished up at nearly the same time, leaning back. Knives left arm stayed over Anne's shoulders, and she remained pressed up against his side.

Seconds passed like ages. Both waited intently for any clue, any relaxing or tensing that would indicate one way or the other where they stood. 

Anne froze, loving the feel of him next to her, body memorizing the play of muscles that she could feel under his shirt. The weight of his arm on her was comforting, but wrong at the same time. He wasn't relaxed, wasn't holding her. His arm just happened to be there. She waited for him to stop resting it on her and start holding her.

Knives felt the same almost panic. The feel of her so close to him was enough to drive him mad, but she was holding herself almost stiffly next to him. Was this an imposition? Did she not want to have anything more to do with him? If only she would give him some clue, some inkling of what she wanted, so he would know what to do.

After a few more seconds he slipped his arm from her shoulder. 

"I think we have it," she said simply, looking over the schematic. "I think this will work."

"Will they be able to modify the boards?" he asked, trying to move past the awkward moment. 

"Absolutely. Some of the guys in the development lab are sheer geniuses when it comes to modifying old tech. Give them a soldering iron and they're set." She stood up and headed back towards the kitchen, not looking at him as she left. Knives watched her go and wondered what she was thinking, if she had dismissed the incident as completely as her demeanor indicated. If so, he wished he could do the same. He didn't want to admit it, but it was beginning to look like she had moved past wanting anything to do with him. He scowled at the kitchen, not liking how that made him feel.

Anne started to put things in the cupboards and swallowed past a lump in her throat. That had been… painful. Nothing smarted as much as encountering a past lover and having to realize that what was past would remain that way. She bit back a sigh. Figured, really. She should have known that no one was going to pine after her for any length of time. Knives, now… he just completely awoke the mommy instinct, with those sad blue eyes, that lost look that entered his eyes when he looked at Ace at play, the fact that he was so scared all the time. She just wanted to take him in her arms and soothe those fears away, along with a few other things once she had him in her grasp. She coughed and blushed, then pushed those thoughts away as a distraction she didn't need right now.

But her? Wait for her? Guys didn't really have that same need to search out pain and ease it away. Likely, given the time, he realized that she was just a big old mass of messed up psyche, and that he was better off without her.

Yup, she nodded at her reflection in the kitchen window. Probably it. Any rational being, upon looking at their life with her in it, and contrasting it with her not in it, would of course choose the latter. The solemn look on her face agreed with her. 

In a way, she congratulated his good sense. The objective part of her could see things from his point of view, and agreed with him. Much better to just let her go her own way, especially if that way took her out of his life. 

Then, struck by a thought, she scowled. If that was so true, why hadn't he just left? Was her being a plant so important to him that he would try to keep her alive despite her less sterling qualities, like personality? Racist male chauvinist pig. She'd rather be honestly hated than tolerated because of something she had no control over. She shook her head and kicked the bags into a corner of the room, carefully not envisioning his shins as she did so. She took the pillows and towels off the counter and into the bedroom. Chucking the pillows on the bed, she put the towels on the top of the cupboard over the toilet and turned around.

And gasped. "Make some noise when you walk behind someone," she snarled, taking out some of her frustration on the available target.

He blinked and shrugged. "Sorry," he remarked, not sounding very sorry at all, and not getting out of her way.


	46. Dinner

AL happily sits down to write, buoyed by the reviews she has received.

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"What?" she asked, lifting her chin a bit so she could stare him in the eye. "Do you have a problem?"

He shrugged, then backed off a pace. "The bed was in the way," he said simply.

"It's my bed and my room. If you don't like it, leave." She stalked around the foot of the bed and opened the doors to the armoire. She grabbed the first two pillows and tossed them in, but Knives grabbed the third one and held it out of her reach.

"Stop it," she demanded, holding her hand out. "I'm trying to pick things up." She snapped her fingers impatiently.

"What was the last thing you ate?" he asked, handing the pillow over.

"I don't know," she said into the armoire.

"Did you eat anything today?"

"Sure."

"What?"

"What do you care?"

"Well, if you don't take at least some semblance of care of yourself, what was the point of healing you?"

"I don't know; what was the point? I'm a grown-up; I can take care of myself, eat when I'm hungry, bathe when I'm dirty, and do all those other fun adult things like-- Hey! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go make you dinner."

"I'm not hungry!"

"Funny. You were always hungry before."

"I'm not hungry now," she repeated, disgruntled. She threw herself down on the bed, head resting on her favorite pillow, feet pointing towards the ceiling, arms crossed over her chest. "Not that you care to listen to me. I bet you're going to blow up my kitchen, and then I'll never get my deposit back." Her scowl deepened. She was willing to wager that he didn't even know how to cook. Yeah, she would probably get to try to choke down some half-burnt, half-raw meal and act like it was gourmet. Or he would get all pissy and blow up the city, and then blame it all on her. Yeah, everything was her fault. Blame Kiley, she's always wrong.

She turned over and punched her pillow into a more comfortable shape. Maybe she could fall asleep before he finished cooking, and maybe he wouldn't wake her up. No, with her luck she would fall asleep and then he would wake her up, and then she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again and would spend the entire night awake and have to go into work tomorrow like a zombie.

She closed her eyes tightly. It wasn't fair. She wasn't ready for this. She hadn't had enough time acting like a normal human being, hadn't…. She didn't want to walk in to work tomorrow and feel everyone's eyes upon her, seeing her as some freak. As a monster. Like she had ever done anything the entire time that she worked there, like she would have if they hadn't started things by threatening Ace. And Meryl. But would they look at it that way? No. Of course not.

Because she had possessed the gall to work there to try to better the lot of plants and humans, of course she was a monster. An evil, horrid, killer one, to boot. She sighed and bit back a sniff that threatened tears. 

Well, who cares what they think? she reminded herself. They can just believe what they want. I know I'm not a monster, and really, who cares about them.

Aside from me. 

But I only care because I'm weak, because I need the approval of others to validate my existence. I can go in there tomorrow, face the stares and whispers, because they mean nothing. They mean less than nothing, less than the sound of wind through the tress.

Right, the sarcastic portion of her soul chimed in. Who do you think you're fooling?

She sighed again and tried to think of something happier, something that wouldn't give her nightmares if she managed to fall asleep. Something like, um… hmm. Her mind stayed stuck in the rut of what ifs and worrying about tomorrow. What if they tried to kill her, and other people got hurt? They would likely blame her for that, too. Unless she stood there and just took the beating, anything that happened to anyone would be her fault.

The smell of something yummy wafted in the room, and her traitor stomach growled. She tried to ignore it, but once awakened, her hunger could not be denied. After a few minutes of fruitless arguing with her appetite, she rolled off the bed and into the kitchen.

"What are you making?" she asked as she moved to stand next to Knives at the counter.

"Omelet."

"But it smells good," she protested. 

"What, did you think I didn't know how to cook?" he asked, shooting a piecing look her way.

She shrugged.

"I'll have you know that I am a very good cook. If you think I would let something as integral as a meal be messed up by a human, you are sadly mistaken. I nearly always cook when I'm not in my ship."

"Oh." She narrowed her eyes. "I cook, too, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm any good."

"I'm a plant," he said loftily. "Of course I am a superior chef."

"I'm a plant, too, and I suck at cooking," she pointed out.

"Then maybe I should teach you how."

"Is that an offer?"

"If I stick around long enough. Otherwise I'll be the one stuck cooking all the time. Trust me; you don't want to eat Vash's cooking."

"Guess I'll have to take a rain check on that lesson, then."

"Oh, I'm sure we can fit one or two in before I leave."

"Yippie."

He slid the omelet onto a plate and passed it to her. She blew on it as she fished in a drawer for a fork, then attacked the meal. Knives watched, bemused, as it disappeared in under a minute.

"Ow," she commented when she was done. "That was hot."

"Want another?"

She passed the plate back and he grinned.

"I knew you were hungry," he pointed out unnecessarily.

She stuck her tongue out and he laughed before turning to break a few eggs.


	47. The Big Bed

Will more reviews make for longer chapters? Curious to see…

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Feeling the need to do something while he was cooking, she rummaged in the cabinet closest to the refrigerator and came up with a toaster. She pulled the bread out of the fridge and sliced off a few pieces, then rummaged for jam as they toasted. She found some raspberry jam near the back of the fridge, nearly buried under a bag of apples, so she liberated one of the pieces of fruit as well. 

Biting into the crisp white flesh, she rummaged up a knife and a bread plate. The bread popped up before she got back to the toaster, but it was still warm enough to melt the butter she spread on it.

She bit into the first piece of toast, alternating bite of apple with a bite of bread. She closed her eyes for just a second, savoring the taste of the fruit, and when she opened them, her second piece of toast was gone.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, surprise trailing into a mournful sound.

"What?" Knives attempted to say innocently. It was ruined by the fact that he hadn't had time to swallow yet.

"Nothing," she sighed heavily, and sliced off another couple pieces of bread. "Want an apple?" she offered.

"Sure."

She grabbed one and dropped it into the his outstretched hand. The room was silent, save for the hiss of eggs as they cooked and the juicy crunching that accompanied their munchings.

"You were right," she admitted after a minute. "I needed to eat."

"Of course you did," he said easily as he reached out the window and liberated some herbs from the window box. "Normally you aren't quite such a bitch."

"Hmm. Almost touching apology moment ruined by bad word choice," she mused, then attended the toast.

"You were acting a bit less friendly than you normally do," Knives pointed out in his defense.

"Yes, and you could have said that instead of saying that I was acting the bitch." She scowled at the butter as it tried to slide off its dish. "I'm not saying that I wasn't being a bit on the sensitive side, but there are better word choices."

He rolled his eyes and slid the fresh omelet onto her plate.

"Here, oh heavenly maven of kindness, your devoted servant wishes that you enjoy this tender repast," he said as he slid it down the counter.

She narrowed her eyes. "Sarcasm is the sign of a failing wit," she pointed out.

He sighed as he filled the pan with water and set it in the sink to soak. "I'm tired, too," he replied as he sat up on the kitchen counter. 

"Well, the bed's open," she pointed out.

"The big bed," he muttered.

"What is it with you and my bed?" she said, exasperated.

He glared at the floor. "It's a big bed."

"Yes. I knew that when I got it. Are you normally this irrational when it comes to furniture choices?" She looked at her plate, surprised to find that the food was all gone again, and set the empty plate on the counter next to her as he replied.

"No. It's just too big of a bed. For one person," he amended after a moment.

"For one…. What? Do you think I've been sharing that bed?"

He didn't reply.

The eggs were beginning to settle heavily in her stomach. "That's it, isn't it? You're pissy because you think I've been sharing that bed." She scowled, and tried to meet his eyes, but his gaze kept shifting all over the place and she couldn't follow. So she yelled at him, instead.

"What gives you the right to just walk in here and start making assumptions about my love life? What is it to you if I share that bed with someone? Do you think you have some sort of rights to me? That screwing you for a couple weeks means that there will never be anyone else in my life? That I'm supposed to just sit here, hearing nothing from you for four years, and just wait for you to show up? Is that it?"

"No. That's not it at all." He slid off the counter. "I don't want to have this discussion right now. You finish eating; I'm going to go sleep." He walked out of the room, back very straight, and Anne knew that she had hurt his feelings. 

She was still mad enough to not want to take the words back quite yet, though. Just because she had waited for him, just because she had bought that huge bed with him in mind three years ago, that didn't give him the right to just assume that she had to wait for him. She waited because she loved him. But he didn't just get to assume that. She swallowed past the lump that had appeared in her throat. 

She couldn't count the nights she had lain in the middle of that bed and wished that he was there with her. It was too big for one person; she agreed to that. But she had been faithful, had waited and waited, and continued to wait, even as she wondered if she would see him again. And then, to have her fidelity called into question because of the size of her bed…. It was more than infuriating. He was just so entirely wrong to assume that she was that unfaithful.

She flushed a little. Maybe she had led him to believe that she wasn't quite so good as she had been, but it was his own fault for questioning her. And for assuming. She shook her head ruefully as she put her plate in the sink. She would apologize… in the morning. Let him stew for a night. 

She walked into the bedroom after doing the dishes to see him already under the covers, asleep or doing a very good job pretending. He was taking up the far right side of the bed, so after crawling into her pajamas she slid onto the left. 

"Good night, Knives," she mouthed as she turned off the lights and set the alarm clock.

Nice seeing you again, she thought as she surrendered to sleep.


	48. Sleeping beauty

Lots of reviews? 33% more chapter, free!! *snickers*

Oh, and the mood swings thing? It's on purpose. Stress, low blood sugar, just plain being tired…. I'm trying to be realistic, and real people get pissy when these sorts of things happen. 

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Knives somehow managed to get hit in the face by Anne's elbow as she reached up behind her for the ringing alarm clock. He got his eyes open in time to watch it go flying with eerie accuracy through the open door; eerie considering that she managed to perform the task without opening her eyes. He stared out the door for a while, trying to comprehend just how she could do that without waking up. Giving up, he settled back on his pillow and tried to return to sleep, but the faint ringing of the alarm irritated him and he found that he was too awake to sleep.

Sighing a bit, he opened his eyes and looked at Anne, her face innocent in repose. And close, to boot. He looked behind him at the length of bed he had traversed to get to this point, then over her to see how much she had moved in her sleep. He normally didn't move that much in his sleep, preferring to stay in one spot the night through. Oddly, they had ended up together in the middle of the bed.

He propped his head up on one elbow. Maybe not too oddly, though. There was something calming about sleeping near another plant. He had noticed the phenomenon with Vash, and then later with Ace. Perhaps it was that the slumbering minds were synchronized, that they reached out to what was familiar and similar, but sleeping near another plant was always more restful than sleeping alone, or near a human.

He wondered that he hadn't noticed that calmness earlier with her, but then recalled that for the most part they had not slept too close together in the desert, both preferring to keep their distance from an enemy while unconscious and vulnerable. Any closer contact generally occurred when one or the other was exhausted. And then, while in the ship… they hadn't really been sleeping, much. And the calmness could be attributed to other things.

It was amazing to him, how easy it had been to not see that she was a plant. She hadn't needed to hide anything, hadn't tried to keep the truth from him, and still he hadn't known. He sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. For someone who prided himself on his ability to notice the small details that others overlooked, he had certainly missed this big one.

Asleep, she looked entirely too innocent, her face unlined by cares or worries. A lock of hair had fallen over one eye, and Knives reached out tentatively and brushed it off her face. Her breathing didn't change and she gave no sign of noticing his attention. Emboldened, he let his fingers linger on her forehead, enjoying the feel of soft skin under the pads of his fingertips. Tentatively, he stroked the line of her eyebrow, one finger tracing the edge of her temple before drifting over one cheekbone, slowly stroking the soft flesh under her eye before ending up on the upturned tip of her nose. Then it drifted down to her lips, tracing the curve of her mouth before being lifted from her face.

He smiled, then set his fingers to trace the line of her jaw, then down the curve of her neck. Oh, he had missed her immensely. She might be the most frustrating creature on the planet awake, but moments like these more than made up for the aggravation. So innocent, so trusting of his touch… his hand traced the exposed line of one collarbone and ended up cupping a shoulder left bare by the over-large neck of her sweatshirt. No one touched his heart like she did. No one. So strong, both physically and mentally. Strong, and tough, but still capable of caring for others, even those who hated her. Her empathy for others amazed him. That she could care so much after the life she had lived bespoke a nobility of spirit that even she seemed unaware of. Vash had noticed it, and Meryl, in the short time they had known her, and there had been entire conversations over the past few years devoted entirely to that fact.

Greatly daring, he shifted his weight and leaned over her face. Still cupping her shoulder in one hand, he brushed his lips against hers. The softness was so inviting that he stole another sweet kiss. He pulled back a bit, saw that she still slept, and smiled wryly. So much for awaking the sleeping beauty with a kiss.

She sighed and turned towards him a little. He froze, almost panicking, but she subsided before awakening. He almost disentangled himself from her, but the promise of those slightly parted lips was too much for him. He kissed her again, one little kiss before getting up and pretending that this stolen moment had never happened.

Except that this time, she kissed him back. He tried to pull back, shocked, but somehow she had managed to snake an arm around his waist without his notice, and he was trapped. He smiled against her lips as he realized this, then surrendered to the kiss. It was as good as he remembered, as good and better.

Then she pulled back, and he let her go.

"Morning, sleepyhead," he said.

She looked at him, amusement painted with a light touch on her features. "You're no Prince Charming, but damn, that was a fine way to wake up." She sat up in bed and yawned, then stretched her arms after he backed off a bit.

"Better than getting knocked in the head by a flying elbow," he noted.

She flushed. "Did I? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I rather assumed that, as you weren't awake when you hit me."

She sighed dramatically. "Beating you up and I'm not even awake to enjoy it. How sad."

"Your pity for my plight moves me," he remarked dryly.

She yawned, still trying to wake up. "Sorry. Hey, about last night…"

"Never mind that," he interrupted.

"Stop that. What I want to say, is that I might have implied that you had no right to presume how I should or should not have used my big bed…"

"Implied? You said that straight out."

"Will you not interrupt? What I was going to say, is you have no right to assume… but I thought you might want to know that this is a completely virgin bed. You and Vash were the first guys to ever sleep on it. Other than that… it was me. All alone. On my big bed."

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"The entire time?"

"I think I said that, yes."

"Virgin bed?" he said, humor lacing the words.

"The bed, yes."

"Poor bed. Should we fix that?"

She laughed. "Not if I'm going to get to work on time."

"Screw work."

"Nice try, plant boy, but there's only one thing here I want to screw, and it sure isn't work."

He sighed and put on a hurt expression. "And you had to say this in the morning, why?"

"Because it shouldn't matter to you how many men might have been in this bed when you weren't anywhere around. It's only when you're here that there should be any exclusive rights."

He was cheered to hear her say that, but put on a scowl. "Fine. But I'm here now."

"But I'm not supposed to be." She slipped out of bed and pulled some clothes out of the armoire. "I really need to get going. I think today is going to be an interesting day at work; I should probably try to be on time, for once."

"I'll make you breakfast," he offered.

"You don't have to."

"If they decide to beat you up again, you can use the energy."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at breakfast," she sighed. "Ah, to be normal, and only have to worry about not being hungry until lunchtime."

"Normal is overrated," he informed her as she closed the door to the bathroom.

"That it is," she said to herself, smiling. "But sometimes, so is exciting."


	49. To work

Sorry sorry sorry!!! DSL wasn't working last night!

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Anne didn't sprint through the streets this morning. The day had dawned with the skies more hazy than last week, but that was fine. The light from the suns was slightly muted, giving the world an older feel to it than 150 years of history warranted. Instead of passing people by as she quickly made her way to the office, she looked at them, wonderingly. Would this person try to kill her, if she knew that she was a plant? What would this man do, with his hands in his pockets and a frown on his brow? Would he find it inspiring that there were more types of people on this planet than he had thought, or would he feel threatened?

She scowled a bit and shook her head to banish those thoughts. It didn't matter what his reaction would be. What mattered was that there were things beyond his ken that were being kept from him because of fear. Her fear, and the fear of the people that she worked for, both of them were in the wrong. They both tried to pretend that since so few people knew of the problem, that there wasn't one. 

She lifted her head to the sky and let the blue calm her. Today was not going to be a good day, but it had gotten off to a good start. Aside from the great way to wake up, she had been awarded a lovely breakfast as soon as she had gotten out of the bathroom. She burped quietly as she turned into the square facing the plant, then grinned.

Time for a confrontation, finally. No more dancing around the problem, no more lying about what she was, what she could be. No more pretending, no more need to stand by helplessly when others could use her special talents. The consequences of the truth might be high, but she was tired of the lies, tired to death. Just the thought of finally being free of them was heartening.

And then, well… she was sure there was going to be an argument, at least. It shamed her to admit it, but there was a part of her that delighted in the thought of fighting, that knew that she was capable enough to deal with what was going to be thrown her way. The thought of what was coming excited her, made her cheeks flush with more than the exertion of the walk.

She entered the plant and walked over to the door guard. "Hey, Josh, um… do you mind opening the door for me? I sort of left my badge on my jacket. Which is still sitting on the back of my chair in my office."

He sighed. "You know I'm not supposed to do that."

"Aw," she whined. "You know I work here; it's not like I'm trying to get in to sabotage anything."

He made a quick shooing motion towards the door. "Fine, in. But remember your badge. Next time, I swear, I'm going to make you get a new one!"

She danced to the door, laughing. "Thanks!" With a wave she slipped through the door and into the confines of the plant. She was careful to note which people paled a bit when they happened to glance her way, the quick double-takes and quicker glances away and tried to not grin when her mental tally of who was arrayed against the free plants was confirmed. There were only two people who surprised her; one woman she had expected to be a part of their group, and a man she hadn't even thought would be of any use to them.

She saw Effie as she got to the lab. It was interesting to see her go from animated and happy to pale and angry as soon as the woman noted her presence. She tersely broke off the conversation she had been having and stalked to another corner of the room.

Mentally Anne shrugged. She had known that Effie was going to have problems. The cold shoulder routine didn't bother her too much. Really.

She turned to make her way to her office, and was stopped by her boss.

"I had heard on Friday that you weren't going to be in for a while. Yet, here you are, and on time for once. Is everything ok?"

Anne shrugged. "That's still being worked out. But nothing is gained by not having me here, so I thought I'd come by and see what I can do."

"Did you get any time in on that problem over the weekend? I mean, I'm sure it was stressful, family problems and all that, wasn't it? But we need that problem fixed, needed it fixed by Friday."

"Me and a friend of mine looked at it last night and came up with something we think will work. I'm going to input the changes this morning and make sure that everything still operates around the board, but I'm confident that we have a fix."

"Difficulty to retrofit?"

"Average. Nothing tricky, but there's a bit more that needed to be moved around than usual."

Her boss sighed. "I'm sure you did your best."

Anne shrugged, her attention diverted from he conversation when she caught sight of Effie walking towards them, a full mug of hot coffee in her hand. She pushed lightly past the boss, and held the mug out. 

"Here," she snarled, then spat in the cup before relinquishing it.

Anne looked the shorter woman straight in the eyes, said thanks, then took a large drink. 

The pale face flushed a bit before she turned and flounced away, back held straight as she negotiated her way around the desks.

"What did you do to her, and why in the world did you drink that?" asked her boss. Anne could see the confusion on her face as soon as she was able to turn her eyes away from her friend's retreating form.

"Long story, and because nothing defuses a dramatic moment quiet like calm acceptance."

"You don't have to drink that," her boss pointed out as Anne took another sip.

"No, this is alright. We've already swapped spit, and luckily she's too much of a lady to be very nasty in her dramas. Excuse me; I need to go get that data input."

"Um, sure." Her boss shook her head as she passed, then collected herself. "Quickly! We have people waiting on it!"

Anne waved with her free hand, then entered her office.


	50. Enter Mark

And the story progresses…

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Anne was in the middle of running her last diagnostic when Mark burst in the door. She barely had enough time to jump before he had lifted her from her chair and slammed her into the wall to the left of her desk.

"Um, ow," said Anne, reaching down to massage her thigh where it had gotten caught on the chair.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded in a growl.

"I fixed your leg," she said calmly, meeting his eyes levelly. "I know you've figured that out by now."

"Why the hell did you do that? Why now? Why me?"

"Because I could. Because you already know I can do things normal people can't. Because I've felt guilty for years. But mostly, because I could, and because you needed me to."

"I don't need anything from some freak like you."

"Fine. You didn't need me to," she agreed easily.

"Don't mock me!" he said, pushing her more firmly against the wall.

She rolled her eyes. "Then what do you want me to say?"

"I want the truth. I think I deserve the truth."

She looked him in the eyes again. "Truth? Fine. Because you're my friend."

"I am not your friend." He let go of her arms, and she fell a couple inches to the ground. 

"Great. I'm not your friend. But that doesn't stop you from being mine."

"I hate you," he pronounced, looking like he wanted to hit her. His hands were clenching into fists and unclenching, but he somehow managed to keep from pummeling her.

Anne grimaced as she realized that her arms were going to bruise. "That's nice," she said absently, concentrating on healing the damage.

"Is that all you're going to say?"

"I'm not going to lie to you, Mark. I'm not going to say that I hate you, because I don't. I understand you, I know where you're coming from, I comprehend your motivations. I can't say that I agree with you, but I'm not so shallow that I'm going to stop being someone's friend just because I don't entirely agree with them."

"You've lied to me for years. I liked you. My aunt liked you, the girls liked you, Effie liked you, we all liked you. We all thought that you were someone that was kind, and good, and a decent human being. Instead, you're a lying, evil freak. You act like I'm not supposed to have a problem with this."

She sighed and pushed past him to look at how her diagnostic was progressing, then picked up her chair and sat down. "You know me pretty well. Do you think that I'm really all that evil?"

"You killed my cousin," he pointed out.

"Who was trying to kill me. Who was trying to hurt someone under my protection. Who was the aggressor in that situation. Who I didn't even try to kill; it was an accident. I was aiming for his shoulder," she said with a slight frown, remembering just why she missed.

"And that is supposed to make it all better? How many tears do you think my aunt cried when I told her who you really were? How betrayed do you think the girls felt, when she told them that you were the one who killed their daddy?"

Anne sighed. "I know. I shouldn't have let myself be their friend. I shouldn't, and I knew that when the truth came out that they would be hurt. I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough to stay away, to not be their friend. I love them, too, you know."

"Love?" he said with a snort. "Your kind know nothing of love. You're just a biomechanical machine, a cog missing from a wheel. You belong inside a bulb, or buried under the sands."

"Thanks. Thanks for believing in me that much." She sighed and put her head in her hands. "You have no idea what it means to me, to have such friends. And, just for the record, I've never been inside a bulb." She paused. "And I do know how to love, you moronic asshole," she said without heat. "I love you, I love Effie, and I love your aunt and the girls. I love this planet, I love my job, and I would love to know just why you think I'm incapable of love."

"You are a plant. A thing. A machine. That you walk the planet makes you a freak. But you are not a thing that can know feelings."

She snorted at that. "Not know feelings? Mark, I'm an empath. Do you have any idea what that means?"

He narrowed his eyes, but shook his head a little.

"It means that every day, every hour, every second, I am constantly bombarded by the feelings of others, in addition to having to keep a very tight rein on my own. Saying that I don't know feelings is like telling a sailor that he doesn't know water."

"A what?"

"Um. Bad analogy. It's like telling a jockey that he doesn't know thomases. Like telling a mason that he doesn't know stone. Like telling a machinist that he doesn't know steel. Like telling a banker that he doesn't know money. Like telling…"

"I get the picture," he interrupted. "What am I feeling now?" he quizzed.

She took her face out of her hands and looked him in the eye again. "Fear. Anger. A bit of curiosity. Betrayal. Hate. Disgust."

"Easy enough to guess those."

"Conflicted. Sadness. Joy. And guilt."

"Joy? What joy?"

"You're glad that your limp is gone, whatever the reason. And you feel guilty that you're glad it's gone when it was healed by one of those plants that you abhor so much."

"You could still be guessing."

"I don't need to."

He looked at the wall over her shoulder. "Well, nice as this chat has been," he said sarcastically, "I came down here for another reason entirely. The boss wants to see you in his office."

She looked again at the progress of her diagnostic, then replied, "Let me just run these figures to Janet, then we can go."


	51. Meeting with the boss

*bounces* I got to see Spirited Away in theaters this weekend!! Go Miyazaki!!

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Mark was the very picture of impatience, trailing along behind her as she handed her figures over to her boss. Janet looked a bit surprised to see her leaving so soon, but took in the look on Mark's face and didn't press for information.

"Are you going to be coming back later?" she asked tentatively.

Anne shrugged. "It's not in my hands at the moment," she said, not trying to be mysterious, but not really wanting to explain things, either. With a bit of a wave, she turned and let Mark lead the way out of the lab.

Their walk through the halls of the plant was silent and not very comforting. Anne caught herself looking around intently, knew that she was trying to memorize what it felt like to be free. Tension knotted her muscles and her stomach was clenched into a cold hard knot. This was it. The point of change, of confrontation. Her thirty second pitch for her species, her chance to convince the leader of the opposition that she wasn't a threat to him, to his way of life. 

Winning meant she could live; losing, death, or imprisonment. She suppressed a shudder. Death would be better. She could feel the walls about her beginning to press in on her, holding her, trapping her away from freedom. Her skin itched with the thought of more pain, of people trying to break her again. Her breathing quickened as they grew closer to the boss's office and she clamped down on her racing thoughts.

She was ready for this. She was prepared. Her breathing slowed to its regular pace as she forced herself towards a state of calm. Even so, as they approached the door to her fate, her arm snaked out and grabbed a hold of Mark's sleeve.

"Wait just a second," she asked, closing her eyes and breathing deeply for a few moments. He looked at her, annoyance writ large on his face, but complied.

With a slight shake of her shoulders, she opened her eyes and nodded to him. "Ok, I'm ready now," she affirmed, and he opened the door.

The room inside was best described as opulent. Plants hung from the ceiling and clustered by the windows, softening the light that streamed down from the recesses overhead. Wood paneling edged the bottom half of the walls, a deep rich cherry tone that could only have come from trees on earth. Paintings of street scenes on earth decorated the walls, reminders of a life left behind and mostly forgotten. She got the picture; this was a man who remembered. That was fine; so did she. One of the paintings caught her eye, looked like something she had seen before, but now was not the time to go take a closer look.

Most of her attention was paid to the men arrayed before her. All men; she was the only woman in the room, and wondered if it was because they were incredibly sexist on this planet, or if they were looking for brawn to overpower her if things got rough.

If they were going for brawn, they had succeeded. Aside from Mark and the boss, there were six men in the room, all of whom looked like they could bench press a small car. There were two by the door, two about six feet to the sides and a bit in front of the desk, and two standing guard over the boss.

She suppressed a snort. What did they think she was going to do, jump him? As if that would solve anything.

Seeing the room in front of her took only an instant, and her course of action was decided in the same span of time. Obviously, they expected something physical from her, something drastic. She wasn't going to play that game. Instead, she stepped into the room, nodded at her boss, then walked over to the painting that had caught her eye.

No one said anything as she walked over there. She slipped her hands in her pockets, an unconscious habit that she had picked up as a child when placed near valuable things. Mark walked in after her, trailing her but unsure what to do. She smiled, a quick quirk of the lips as she took in their uncertainty. 

She spent a few minutes looking at the picture, examining the brushwork, enjoying the way that light appeared to dance off the water in the background of the picture, the deep greens and blues of the hills on the other side of the bay. The houses in the foreground had been freshly whitewashed, appearing to glow in the light from a single sun.

After she showed no signs of leaving off her appreciation of the picture, her boss stood up from his desk and walked over beside her. They stood together for a good five minutes, she looking at the picture while he looked at her.

"Italy?" she asked, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes," he said softly.

"A Meyer? It looks like some of his earlier work, but it might be a copy. I can't remember if this style of lighting," she pointed at the reflection of the sunlight on the roof, "was a part of his earlier techniques or not."

"This is actually the first painting where he tried that out. And it is not a copy."

"Ah," she said absently, reaching out with her finger to trace the contours of the strokes, careful to come close to the surface of the painting but not to touch it. "He's always been one of my favorite artists of the Mezzoromantic period. Much more evocative than the majority of his fellows."

"It's one of the jewels of my collection. But please, sit. I did not bring you here to discuss my taste in art."

"No," she agreed easily as she turned away from the painting, her eyes not wanting to leave the scene that she knew so well, having once lived in that town. "We have much weightier matters to discuss."


	52. Art appreciation

*yawns* *is a tired AL*

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He walked over to his desk and she followed, ignoring the hard chair directly in front of the desk in favor of one of the comfy ones placed to the side. The boss steepled his fingers together and looked at her. She ignored him in favor of looking at a painting of a nighttime Paris street scene. It was looking down a street at the Eiffel tower, lit windows reflecting on the wet street. The tower in the back was large enough to be the focal point of the piece, but there was something about the piece that just didn't inspire her. She couldn't place what it was, as there were a few things that just felt off to her.

She frowned a bit, narrowing her eyes as she tried to place what annoyed her about the piece. For one thing, the colors were too dark. Paris just wasn't that black; too much light would have been reflected down from those clouds she could see crowding the top of the piece. There wasn't that feeling of vibrancy that she got from the Meyer; instead this one felt drab, dull. As if it were only a reflection of the real Paris.

As soon as she thought that, she realized that was indeed the case. Certain imperfections around the sides were there to suggest the edge of a puddle. Intrigued by the concept she looked at it more sharply. The picture still seemed a bit stiff to her, but she had renewed appreciation for what the artist was trying to attempt. 

A non-subtle clearing of the throat took her attention away from the scene.

"Are you quite finished staring at my art collection?" he asked a bit petulantly.

"That depends," she said easily, leaning back in the chair, her action at odds with her question. "Are you quite done staring at me?"

He laughed, one quick bark that made the men to either side of him jump She tried to not compare him unfavorably to a seal, but it was hard. "You've got balls," he said grudgingly, nodding once with each word.

"Actually, I don't. But let's not quibble anatomy."

He laughed again, the same quick, harsh, humorless sound, then changed the subject a bit. "I don't suppose you realize just what sort of trouble you are in here? You seem to be treating this meeting rather lightly."

"Trouble, sir?" Her face took on a slightly too earnest expression, and she scaled it back to something that wouldn't be seen as mocking before continuing. "I realize that my performance has been slacking as of late, but that's not my fault. I can only fix the problems they find, and we've reached a point where we're almost through pre-production. I'm sure once we really get in the swing of production that we'll find lots of problems for me to try to fix again." She affixed an earnest expression to her face and waited for his response.

He looked at her blankly for a moment as he tried to understand her response. It wasn't the one he had been expecting, and she could see him discarding a preplanned speech as he said, "This isn't about your job performance."

"Oh. All right, then, what seems to be your problem?"

He stared at her, a smile twitching at the edge of his mouth. He quit fighting it after a moment and leaned back in his chair and laughed. His eyes drifted towards the ceiling as he guffawed, one hand pounding the arm of his chair. She glanced at the ceiling, following his gaze to make sure that she wasn't missing the joke somewhere, but there was nothing there. She dropped her gaze and watched his as he laughed, the solemnity lost from his face, and leaving a visage that she found herself liking. He brought himself under control quickly, the blank mask pulled over his features again and the passionless eyes weighing her. Shaking his head and looking at her, he sighed and finally spoke. 

"My problem is that I have a plant working for me, but she's not in the right job."

"That's a slightly racist comment," she said mildly, but didn't want to dwell on that issue. She felt safer referring to what she received her paycheck for than the implied racism that lingered between them. "I thought I was doing ok," she said after he didn't say anything in response. Silence stretched between them as he waited for her to say more and as she refused to.

"Oh, yes. I was looking over your records this weekend. Aside from a tendency to not arrive on time, you've been quite the good little worker, haven't you?" A short pause, during which he tried to pierce her with his gaze. "Why?"

"Why what, sir?" She met his eyes calmly, volunteering nothing until the questions were a bit more clarified.

"Why are you working here?" He emphasized the you, and she knew that it had much less to do with why she herself was working there, and why a free plant had the guts to work in the one place on the planet that she was least welcome.

She smiled a bit, more with her eyes than her lips. "Because you pay me. And after working here, I can afford to pay my rent." The comment could have been facetious, but she delivered it as matter-of-factly as possible. 

"Why here? You could have a job anywhere. Why here, why this?"

She sighed and dropped her eyes, one hand leaving her lap to play with the overstuffed arm of the chair. The brocade of the upholstery felt stiff to her as she idly fingered the threads, letting her thoughts collect into a cohesive mass before she opened her mouth. Lifting her eyes again, she locked gazes with him and began to explain herself.


	53. Reasons

"You may have noticed that some of the plants are no longer performing near their former peak levels. For many of them, their best output has dropped to roughly half of what their production levels were a few decades ago.

"Those plants are dead.

"The bulb acts as a life support system, keeping the body alive. The mind, however, has fled the flesh shell, and it's the mind that regulates the fusion process. It's the way we were designed. The problem is plants weren't designed for such prolonged usage. It's been over 150 years since the fall, and these ladies have been working nearly non-stop since that time. While they were powering the ships, the ratio of ships to bulbs was high enough that they could be rotated out of active service periodically, a vacation, so to speak. Even with those regular breaks near the beginning of their lifespan, they have been working and working hard for the past two hundred years. There are a few left who were even powering the ships during construction; they've been in constant service for up to 275 years. You have no idea how long of a time that truly is, to be working and working and working, without a rest, without a day off, without anything to break the monotony of your days."

"The bulbs are a paradise to you plants. They were designed that way," interrupted her boss

Anne shrugged. "So I've been told. The problem is that they still get tired. When was the last time you had a chance to take a bulb offline for anything less than emergency maintenance? You want to believe that we're just a part of a machine, a biomechanism, I think Mark said. But we aren't. We're human, we get tired, we die."

"You aren't human," was his quick response. "You were modeled after the human genome, but there is nothing human about you."

She smiled at him. "Tell that to Alex."

"To who?"

"Alex. Vash and Meryl's son."

"Impossible."

"Improbable, I'll give you that. But not impossible. It's happened, therefore impossibility is no longer a viable option.

"Anyway, back to why I'm working here. The truth is, I would love to see the day when plants are no longer used as a source of energy, but I recognize that my first goal cannot be emancipation. Too many people rely upon the power supplied from the plants; to take that away would sentence millions to death, and that isn't what I'm striving for. No, my short term goal is to at least create a surplus of power that will allow for the reestablishment of the plant rotation system. Preferably before any other plants decide that enough is enough and turn their brains off."

"You're crazy to think that we would do that. You are all soulless automatons; that you are all mindless wouldn't bother me."

She arched an eyebrow. "Crazy? It's the only sensible course of action. There are two plants here in December that were on the verge of shutting themselves off before I started working here. I have managed to baby them this far with the promise of a rest, and their own consciences have helped me prod them along. Otherwise you would be suffering an even greater power crisis than you are now."

"Conscience?" he asked incredulous.

"Believe what you like, not one plant, with perhaps the exception of Knives," she said with a brief frown, "wants to hurt anyone. Vash himself, about thirty years ago chided a plant to keep working when she just wanted to self-destruct by reminding her that other people depended on her. We feel, all of us feel that weight of responsibility, know that there are many lives depending on us. The problem you have is that we are all just so very tired."

"Tired." He snorted. "You would have me believe that you are working here just so the plants can all take a little nap."

"They need a bit more time off than just a nap, but basically, yes."

"Ludicrous."

"No, sir. I can point out to you the bulbs that house a dead plant. If you just look at their records, you will note the decreased production volume of each one, and the corresponding rise in errors and failures. You know as well as I do that there are some bulbs that just seem to have many more problems than the norm. A couple of them, like number fourteen, have problems on nearly a daily basis. 

"You call us a biomechanical component to your machine, but there is a reason that we were designed to be alive, to be intelligent, to be as freakishly strong and capable as we are. It is necessary to control the output of the fusion generation. When you take the mind that monitors all of the minutia that goes on during the process and try to replace it with computer monitors, you are bound to come up short, to have as many problems as you are experiencing.

"In short, you need this as much as we do."

He looked at her for a moment, waiting for her to continue. When she stayed silent, he asked, "But why here? Why, if you knew that we were here, that we want you dead, why work here?"

"Because running and hiding from a bunch of racist bastards like yourselves doesn't solve things. I can't just sit off in an ivory tower somewhere, come up with an idea that will save the world, and then expect you to believe me. But you know me, people here know me, and you know what I eat for lunch and wear to work, and that I can't seem to ever make it here on time and that too much cheese gives me gas and that I like to sing even though I suck. 

"By being here, I'm a person. Not a thing. Say what you like, believe what you will, but you know me." She scratched her jaw. "That's my first step on my second master plan."

His eyes narrowed. "Master plan?"

She nodded. "Master plan one, get plants out of bulbs. Master plan two, destroy racism. I thought I would start small. After I get these two done, things get tougher. Master plan three, which I haven't started yet, is to learn how to paint."

"You're mocking me."

"Maybe just a little."


	54. Reasons, pt2

Her boss leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk as he glared at her. "I think you are taking this situation too lightly."

"No. I'm not. I know that what we are doing right now is a pivotal moment in human history, or at least on this planet. Changing over from a finite, antiquated form of energy that relies on the lives of others to an infinite form that relies only on the suns is a big step for the colony."

"As if someone like you cares about that."

"What makes you think I don't? I live on this planet, don't I? Do I seem to be that self-centered, that unable to see what needs to happen to keep this planet from killing everyone off? If you'd like, you could see my interest in the future as entirely selfish. You'd be wrong to think so, but it's a plausible reason."

He looked at her for a moment, thinking, then said, "Because you'll be around to see it."

"Exactly. It pays for me to be longsighted. I don't want to end my life because some integral piece of machinery finally ceased to function a century after it's projected time of use, and there's nothing around to fix it with. But to get spare parts, you need factories. In the factories you need people. Without people around… what an asinine way to die."

His eyes narrowed, and she could see him biting back some comment describing a better way for her to die.

"I have a question for you," she continued. 

"What?"

"Why do you hate free plants so much? Why do you want us dead?"

"You are unplanned abominations upon this soil," he intoned.

She stared at him blankly. "Thanks," she said flatly. "That clears things up a whole bunch for me. Especially considering that this planet is mostly sand and all."

"You are a thing that should not be. There is nothing humanly possible to stop you if you decide to kill, to harm, to destroy; the power in your arms is unbelievable. I remember when Vash and Knives were fighting. The world itself shook with the power they unleashed. I need only look at the fifth moon for concrete evidence of the depths of destruction contained within you. Nothing controls you, nothing can dictate to you. If you decided to destroy the world, nothing could stop you."

She laughed. "Why would I want to destroy the world? What would I do then? And where would I do it?"

He returned to glaring. "There is no way we could stop you if you wanted to. That's what my main problem is with you freaks; too much power."

She sobered. "The way to stop someone from wanting to harm others is not to take the ability to harm from them, but the desire."

"Quotes can't help the dead in Carcasses, or any of the people that Millions murdered a few decades ago."

"No. Quotes can't. They're dead; nothing can help them now. But the way to stop him from doing it once more is to surround him with a community that will not let him rampage again. And he is. Back then he only had his brother telling him that killing was wrong, and Knives was fairly confident that he could change Vash's mind. Wrong, but confident. Now he has Vash, Ace, Alex, Meryl and I all telling him the same thing, and I think he values us too much to jeopardize his standing with us. I'm not sure how long our presence will curb his behavior, so I'm working to resolve some of the same issues he was fighting for back then."

"So you're doing even more than just working here?"

She looked at him, puzzled by the question, then figured it out. "Oh, no. His main problem is that human civilization as we know it is entirely supported by plants. Supported by exploiting and sucking the life from plants, I might add. That, and he's afraid of human reactions to knowing that there are people not entirely like them sharing the planet. By working here, I am starting to resolve the first issue, and by convincing you to not try to kill me out of hand, I'm working on the second as well."

"You haven't convinced me of anything. Your stunt in the vehicle bay makes you just as dangerous as either of them."

"What stunt?" she asked. "This?" she added offhandedly, bouncing a few balls of light out of her palm and floating them towards the ceiling. A rainbow of colors, deep blue, green, yellow and red, they floated about aimlessly. She watched the two men in her field of vision go for their weapons, and she smiled. "This is nothing." 

She drew them back to her hands and began to juggle. "These are as you see them, balls of light. Which is what they were then, as well." She flashed their colors to that sickly shade of orange, then returned them to what they had been prior. "What they did for me was distract your men long enough for me to slip into their minds and put them to sleep. It's a magic trick," she pointed out. "Mere misdirection. Plus, while your men were shooting at the pretty lights, they weren't shooting at me. But nothing I did down there harmed anyone. Scared them, yes. I did do that. Fear is the best weapon, and I would be a fool to not use it when I'm outnumbered twenty to one. If fear hadn't worked, I would have had to try more invasive procedures, more painful ones, and that really isn't what I'm aiming towards. I'm not going to lie and say that I'm sorry I scared you. I'm glad I did, so I didn't have to do anything else.

"As a matter of fact, I know that the person wounded the most in that altercation was me, and you don't see me crying that I'm afraid of you."

"You are a fool," came Mark's voice from behind her.


	55. A quick spat

She leaned her head back over the top of the chair and looked at him. "Thank you for the vote of confidence," she said wryly.

He continued to scowl. She stuck her tongue out at him, then licked her lips suggestively, just to see him purple.

She returned her attention to her boss, looking at him again and sitting forward in her chair. "So how am I doing? Convinced that I'm not big, mean, and nasty yet?"

He shook his head slowly. "I must agree with Mr. Tenino. You are a fool. You placed yourself back into our hands after managing to escape. You will not get another chance."

She sighed, then shrugged. "You guys are really into that bondage thing, aren't you. Not getting enough fun at home with the little wife?" She liked the shade of red that her boss's face turned. "This really isn't going to convince you that I'm not a threat," she continued, then rolled herself out of the chair. Dropping onto her left hand, she somersaulted down, then kicked up after the man to left fired the weapon he had been aiming at her head. She had heard him playing with the safety as she and her boss had talked, and knew that he was the first to take out if she wanted to keep anyone from being hurt. Anyone like her, mainly, but someone that stressed isn't thinking clearly. He obviously hadn't realized that, with his line of fire, any bullet that went through her or past her would hit his boss. She managed to get a good whack on his head, not knocking him out but dazing him enough for her to turn her attention to the next threat. 

After careening into him, she bounced off his body and launched herself at the man who had been behind her and to her right. She had almost managed to get to her feet by the time she hit him, and they both went down. A quick hand to his wrist and a couple pinched nerves, and he dropped his gun into her waiting grasp. She elbowed him in the gut, then aimed a quick uppercut to the chin. His eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out cold. She rolled clear, keeping his body between her and Mark, then scrambled to her feet and quickly assessed the men who had been guarding her boss. 

The left-hand one had stepped around the desk and was aiming for her head. The right-hand one had moved to cover her boss, but her rapid movements were confusing him. She ran a couple steps to the desk, dashing enough to help her jump the three and a half feet onto the carved wooden surface. She kicked the bodyguard across the chin as she passed him by, a swift side kick as she drew her leg up to run across the desktop. He flew back into the wall and slumped to the ground, unconscious. The other guard got off a shot, but it went wild as his hands were shaking too much for his aim to be any good. She could hear the bullet whistle past and was glad that he was too rattled to aim, as getting punctured was never a fun experience. Before he had a chance for another shot, she got close enough to him to club him with the gun on the temple, and he, too slept.

From the desk she jumped back to the man she had first kicked, finishing the job with a swift blow to the back of his head as he tried to rise from his hands and knees. She spun around his falling body, using it as cover until she had a chance to rush Mark. She tossed the liberated gun at his head, making him flinch as he avoided the throw. That quickly, she was at his side, relieving him of his weapon, then pushing him to the back of the room. She tested the weight of his weapon then put it in the waistband of her jeans. Glancing back at her boss, she saw that he had a gun leveled at her.

"That would be a better deterrent if it were loaded," she said mildly.

"What makes you say that it isn't?" he replied, a slight tremor in his voice the only betrayal of his fear. 

"Because I know it isn't. Look, can we please just sit and talk like civilized people? Without the threats?" she asked plaintively, then spun and threw a punch into Mark's gut as he rushed her. He fell to the ground, the arms that had been outstretched to grab her instead clenched around himself as he tried to breathe. She looked down at him sadly, shaking her head. "Sorry about that," she said before returning her attention to her boss.

He had set the gun back down on the desk and regarded her calmly. She returned to her chair and sat down. 

"Now, where were we?"

"I was threatening you."

"Oh, yes, that's right," she agreed easily. "So what's your next step?"

He looked at her, puzzled. "Aren't you going to dictate terms now? You have me at your mercy."

She smiled and laughed. "I don't have you at my anything. This is all your show; I'm just letting you know what you can and cannot get away with. And imprisonment and torture? That's a big no."

"But you just killed all my guards. Aren't you going to make some threat, some bid for me to leave you and yours alone so that this won't happen again?"

"I don't like making threats, and I think that you're smart enough to learn from the object lesson. What I want to know, is where do we go from here? Do I get to keep my job? Or do you want to start a war with people who aren't interested in fighting?"

"Are those my only options?" he asked.


	56. Healing hands

I took a night off and slept like a bebe.

********************************************************************************

"No, those are not your only options. If you felt like it, you could strip and go dashing about the room, but I don't think that would get us anywhere," she said dryly.

He looked at her uncomprehendingly.

"That's a joke, man." She sighed again, and shifted in her seat. As she did so, she felt pain shoot through her right side. A quick glance down, and she noticed that the shot hadn't missed her after all. It was just a graze to her side, but it was beginning to bleed more, now that she noticed it. She must have torn something when she shifted, though it was curious that it would tear now and not while she was dancing about the room. 

She held her hand out and said, "Give me a minute here; I seem to be bleeding on your chair." 

"Good to know that someone can hit you," he muttered.

She shot him a dirty look. "Your concern for me is touching. You could at least care about the chair."

"No, I was planning on burning it after you sat in it anyway."

She boggled. "Don't you think that's a little extreme? I mean, wash it if you're that paranoid, but a bonfire? What, am I hazardous waste?" She closed her eyes so she could concentrate better on healing the tear in her flesh. "Or is it supposed to be a cathartic moment, the releasing of what has been touched by the icky, icky thing into the atmosphere? Burning it as you wish to burn me? Did you know that that is an awful way to die," she rambled. "Feeling your flesh crisp and listening to the fat pop as flames lick at your lower body? The lucky ones die of smoke inhalation first."

He didn't say anything when she finally stopped babbling. 

After a moment, Anne said, "Mark, I love you dearly, but if you make me hit you again, I swear, this time it is going to _hurt_. Now go sit down in that chair where I can keep an eye on you."

"How did you know I was back here?" he asked sullenly, but she could hear him move off from behind her and over to the other chair.

"Because as soon as you tried to be stealthy, you stopped wheezing on the floor back there. Now sit down." A few seconds later she was done healing, and opened her eyes. 

Her boss was looking at her intently, his eyes boring into hers. She met his gazer levelly, but he said nothing for almost a minute. The only noise in the office came from Mark fidgeting in his chair.

"What?" she asked, slightly disconcerted by the expression on his face.

"It's interesting how you can do that."

"You know I can heal; I did it to him, after all," she said, hooking one thumb over to Mark after she wiped off her hand on her shirt. She looked down at yet another ruined garment and sighed. "I should make you pay for my clothes," she mused.

"What all can you do? Healing-wise, that is?"

"Potentially? Anything. I'm mostly practiced at fixing obvious problems, the ones where blood is spurting all over the place. But given enough time to prepare and a problem I can comprehend, I could fix everything from congenital defects to broken bones to knee surgery."

"Could you fix arthritis?"

She thought about that one for a moment, finger tapping against her knee as she pondered. "I'm not sure. I could lessen the effects of it, I'm fairly confident about that, but I think that's an auto-immune disorder? Isn't it? And I really don't know how to much about with the immune system when it starts to go crazy. I'm sorry about that," she apologized.

He waved a hand and said, "I never expected a miracle cure."

"Do you want me to see what I can do? I might be able to help with the pain, at least a little."

"Will it hurt?"

"Nope. If I can or can't do anything to help, I can at least keep the nerves from firing while I'm looking at it."

"Then please, try."

She stood up and stepped to the desk, rubbing her hands together briskly before taking one of his between them. He sighed as she stopped the pain. She looked at the knuckles and decreased the swelling at the joints, then tried her best to figure out how to fix what was there. After a minute, she shook her head, giving up.

"I'm sorry; I just don't know enough about arthritis to be a help. If you give me a little time, I could read up on it and see if there is anything I can do." She reached for his other hand. "Here. I can at least help with the symptoms now."

"Can all plants heal, or are you special?"

She laughed. "I'm not special. It's just a bit of specialized knowledge, that's all. And the boys, well, they are boys. They think in terms of big explosions and such, and ignore the fact that you can use the same little mental tricks on a smaller scale." She let go of his hand and sat back down.

He flexed his fingers, a small smile trying to break out on his face but he fought it down. "You only did this to try to make me change my mind about your kind."

"Actually… no. I did it because you asked me to." She rubbed at her temples. "You seem to think that I'm much more calculating than I really am. I try to not think about life that much. It just makes things complicated when you think about them too much."


	57. A decision

*yawns again* I almost didn't write this, this evening. 

*****************************************************************************

"I thought you had everything planned out," he commented after she fell silent.

"I have plans, but they're really more goals than carefully detailed schemes. Save the world, save the plants, terraform the planet, learn to paint. I mean, right now I'm working towards the first goal, but it's not so much a plan as it is me trying to take advantage of the choices offered me." She sighed again and sat back in the chair. "I'm really not very good at explaining things, and honestly? I think that I'm not a very good choice to be the ambassador for a species. But who can I shirk this responsibility onto? Knives? Not even a choice. Vash? He has much more practice shirking responsibility than I do. Ace and Alex are too young, and so that just leaves me."

"What makes you a bad choice?" 

"I'm no sort of diplomat. You saw me; given the first opportunity I took out your guards. I'm used to a very quick solution to problems, the sort where people just do what I say because otherwise they'll learn a quick and painful lesson. I mean, I'm trying to be better about that, but some behavioral patterns are hard to break. And it doesn't help when you encourage such behavior by introducing an element of threat," she continued, waggling a finger. "I know about threats, and I know how to get rid of them quickly. But doing so does not help me look like less of a threat to you." She scowled down at the floor. "All it achieves is fear, and that's the last thing I want."

Silence stretched between them, Anne looking at the floor and one of the prone bodies of the guard there, Mark pouting, and her boss thinking things through. 

"Why do you not want us to fear you? The actions of Vash and Knives and yourself have not been such to inspire trust."

"I was not the aggressor when I rescued Ace. You guys were. I just want to be clear on that."

"You killed him," growled Mark, but Anne ignored him.

"And as far as Vash and Knives go, honestly, what you have there, or what you had, are basically two scared boys. For over a century Vash was afraid to get close to anyone, afraid of mortality. One can hardly blame him; he watched almost everyone he cared for die before he was a year old. Then he had to watch as the remaining link to his past slowly slaughtered people who had done him no harm, and especially killed those that Vash might grow close to. Did you know that Vash was drawn to July by rumors that a relative of his mother figure lived there? Rumors planted by his brother I might add, for the explicit purpose of making his brother kill. If it weren't for the fact that Meryl is even more stubborn than him, he might still be running.

"And Knives is even more of a basket case than Vash. Abused as a child for being different, he grew to fear all humans. One of the problems with smart children is that they can rationalize actions that a more mature person cannot. And Knives decided that the only way that he would be safe, the only way he could keep his brother safe was to destroy that which he feared. And after making a decision for genocide, it is very hard to make yourself change your mind, to decide that the atrocities that you have performed were not in the name of a better cause. What does that make you, then? No better than a monster," she answered. "So he kept fighting, long after a sane man would have given up. His fear was all he had left to cling to." She paused.

"I fail to see where this is supposed to be reassuring," pointed out her boss.

"The reassuring part is that life is not static. People can learn to move beyond who they were. Vash has decided to become a part of a real society. Perhaps it's a small one, comprised mostly of Meryl and Millie, but he has made the commitment to be a part of the real world, the one where people do die. For a nomad like him that is a huge step.

"And Knives, too, has joined a community. It may just be Vash, Ace, Alex, and I, but it is much safer to have him answerable to moralities outside of his own. Basically, that's what communities do: we enforce the highest standards of morality on all members. Any society does this; it's how humans order the chaos of the cosmos. 

"Besides," she pointed out, "I can kick Knives' butt if he tries to make trouble, and I am much more committed to peace than I am to keeping that boy happy." She fell silent again, and hoped that she had said the right things.

Her boss leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The room fell silent again, and Anne resumed watching the twitching foot of the man beside her. She couldn't tell if he was waking up yet or not, and if he was waking up, how he was going to wake up. He might be groggy, or he might wake up a threat, so she kept a close eye on him.

Plus it was an excuse to look somewhere else.

"I don't think I want to kill you right now," her boss said abruptly. "You have said some interesting things, shown some interesting talents. The threat you pose may outweigh the benefits of your healing, but this is not a decision to be made lightly, quickly, or by one person. So you get a reprieve.

"You may go back to your job, but Mark will shadow you everywhere you go. Stay close, and do not try anything or I will instruct him to kill you."


	58. The man doth protest

Moving on….

******************************************************************************

Anne laughed and clapped her hands, the sound of her glee almost loud enough to overwhelm the gasp of horror from Mark. He shifted in his seat, ending up on the very edge of his chair, his affront almost making him stand. His outrage danced in his eyes and stiffened his spine as he tried to find the words to express himself.

"You, you, you _can't_!" he sputtered. "That's… I mean, there's just no way you can do this to me. You know what she's done," he pointed out, trying to be rational.

"Yes," their boss replied patiently. "I am quite aware of what she has done. But of all my men… who are not currently broken," he mused, "you are the one most likely to not be killed. Not only can you take care of yourself, she seems to like you. That alone may save you from the males."

"I did not sign up to play friends with the freaks," he protested, eyes narrowing as he contemplated the situation posed by the males. "Why can't Effie watch them?"

"Because I told you to," ordered the boss. "Are you questioning my judgment?"

Mark proceeded to sulk. "No, sir. I'm not… hell, yes I am. Why don't we just kill them all now?"

"For one thing, they are all expecting something right now," he pointed out patiently. "For another, how much are you enjoying being able to move freely again? If these plants can do for everyone what she did for you, imagine the resources that could be freed up. We could stop trying to replicate the medical systems and use those components in the power research."

Anne had sat back and watched the repartee between Mark and the boss with a whimsical half-smile on her face, but at that comment she had to make a point. "Healing does take energy out of us," she said into the silence. "Not much; for what I did for you, say about as much as having to dash up a flight of stairs. But there aren't enough free plants on the planet to replace the existing system, even if you just mean for us to take over surgical duties."

She stood and went to the man on the floor beside her and placed her hand on his temple and eased him back to consciousness, reducing the swelling around the bruises she had planted on him before waking him up. She steeped back quickly as he came to swinging, trying to land a punch on her chin even from his horrible position on the floor.

"You are the most thankless bunch," she muttered under her breath as their boss explained the new situation. Soon, everyone was awake and disgruntled. Everyone save Anne, who had returned to looking at the first picture. She could see her old house, see it's roof on the far left side of the picture. A wave of homesickness broke over her as the men behind her argued. In her mind's eye, the hills in the picture were replaced by the hills of her memory, and she could almost swell the sweet salt breeze that cooled the town on the hot days of summer. The whitewash on the buildings in the painting looked fresh and clean, and she could almost hear the whistling jargon used by the men who applied it.

Blinking back tears, she kept her eyes firmly affixed on the picture, back to the windows that looked out on sand and dust. There were some days that she would almost kill for the chance to see the ocean again, to jump into the clear blue surf and bask on the clean white sands. 

Sure, there had been days where the scent of dying fish in the sea had nearly overwhelmed her senses, when the humidity had been so horrible that it was all one could do to breathe, let alone move. And the rain in the winters had turned the bright white walls into dingy gray, but overall, what she remembered where the days where she was surrounded by so much natural beauty that it could bring tears to even her eyes.

But not now. With a sigh, she turned and left that dead time behind her once more. She would never see that time again. All she could do now was try to recreate as much of it as she could, here. Her new home, like it or not. And she mostly liked it. At least life here was still less complicated.

Thinking of home, she grinned, remembering who would be there when she got back. She had been getting tired of her empty apartment, and now it would be full. Of family, and of Knives. And of another, protesting houseguest.

She looked over at Mark. He was shooting her a glare that blamed the whole mess on her. Her grin widened, and she went to the door. Her boss was occupied arguing with his guards, so Mark ended up being the only one to follow her into the hall.

"You seem pleased with yourself," he commented sourly.

"I am," she said simply, losing the grin. "I somehow managed to not have to fight my way out of that room. Amazing what that can do for your enjoyment of the day."

"Have I mentioned that I hate you? That I think that this assignment is asinine?"

"You may have said something of the sort. How's your leg?" she asked, shifting the subject.

"Fine."

"No pain, no soreness? You should still take it easy for a couple days. No quick action, no stretching. Let it get used to being whole again before you stress it."

He scowled.

She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly as they got in the elevator. "I'm sorry that I'm not what you thought I was. But I don't care how much you sulk and act affronted, I refuse to feel sorry for being what I am."


	59. Prejudice

Another day, another chapter without Knives.

*******************************************************************************

They went back to Anne's office so she could grab her coat and badge before going home to change her shirt. Anne was walking slightly behind Mark, using him to shield the bloodstains on her side from general view. Effie didn't see her as they walked into the office, and it was almost comical to watch her do a double take as she realized who was walking in behind her friend. When she first saw Mark, triumph spread over her features, only to be replaced with shock when she saw Anne.

Leaving the conversation she was in, she quickly paced over to the two as they entered Anne's office. She closed the door behind them all, then hissed to Mark, "Why isn't she dead?" Her ignoring of Anne was a purposeful slight.

Anne flushed, only the tips of her ears betraying her. Bad enough to know that your erstwhile friends now hate you. Worse to hear the words drip from their lips, the vile hatred filling the small room until she almost felt like she was suffocating. Nothing like being an empath to make a small room seem smaller. She concentrated on shoring up her defenses as Mark responded to Effie's question.

"Because Mr. Herman thinks she might be of better use alive," he replied, his disfavor twisting the words, filling them with irony.

"Her? What use is she, other than a pollutant?"

"He wants to know more about her healing."

Effie shuddered, her flesh cringing away as Anne's elbow came a bit too close as she shrugged on her jacket. "So why not just put her back in a cell?"

"Because we can't keep her. Look at her; she took out all the guards on the boss before one could do any more than wing her."

"Who managed?"

"Jack did, before she knocked him out."

"Too bad his aim couldn't have been better."

Anne felt obliged to point out that she was still in the room at the moment. "Can we be just a little less hateful in front of the object of scorn, please?" she asked.

"Shut up, freak," shot back Effie with a withering scowl before she turned her attention back to Mark.

"And what were you doing when she was taking everyone out? Napping?"

"No," he replied with a similar scowl. "I just wasn't prepared for how fast she can move. No one was."

Effie rasped out a sigh. "You're worthless."

"You." She turned and wagged a finger in front of Anne's face. "I hate you."

Anne looked at the finger, then into Effie's eyes for a second. "No shit," she said quietly. "And here I thought you wanted me dead because you were my friend."

"Your kind doesn't have friends. You have tools, toys. You don't understand the concept of friendship."

"I'm not a kind, Effie. And I don't have friends because both of them decided to hate me, not the other way around."

"You lied to us!" she hissed. It was obvious that she wanted to scream, that the only thing keeping her from a fit was her desire to not cause a scene.

Anne's eyes narrowed. "And what the hell was I supposed to do? Walk in here, demand a job, and then make sure that everyone knew I was a plant? That wasn't one of the check boxes on my application form, that I had to be the right sort of human for the job."

"You aren't human at all."

Anne talked over the outburst. "And then what was I supposed to say? I mean, within the first month and a half of knowing you guys at all, you were trying to recruit me to your little crusade. I had the choice of keeping my mouth shut and doing some good around here, or saying something and losing my friends, my freedom, and possibly my life. What would you have done, ok?" she asked, brushing Effie's finger out of her face. She closed her eyes and sighed again, and wished that she could find the right words to make everything better, but knew that they didn't exist.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier. I know you aren't a fan of plants, and I can't say I blame you. Either of you. But what was I supposed to do? When was I supposed to turn to you and say, 'Oh, hey guys, while you grow old and die, I'll get to keep living. Isn't that grand?'

"When was I supposed to tell you? When I was introduced to you? Hi, I'm Anne, I'm a plant, hate me please? Tell me how I could have done better. Tell me who I should have been to make everything good for you. It's not like I can help what I am, and it's not even that I would want to." She opened her eyes and locked gazes with first Effie, and then Mark. 

"You want to be prejudiced? Fine. Of everyone here, I might have thought that you two would understand what it's like to be outcast for nothing you could help. Mark, how many dates have you been on since you became a cripple? Six? Seven? Gotten laid on any of them, or could no one look past the scars on your leg? Effie, how many people won't even talk to you because they're afraid that being gay might be catching? 

"You guys know what it's like to be hated for being different. Excuse me for feeling like you might understand me."

She shouldered past a stunned Effie and reached for the door handle. Two small fists pummeled her back in quick percussion. "You are nothing like us. Nothing!" she hissed.

Anne looked over her shoulder at the smaller woman. "Whatever you say." Her mouth twisted into what was almost a wry smile as she opened the door and left the room.


	60. What are you?

She could feel Mark's unease as he walked up the stairs behind her. It radiated off him in waves, each hitting her in time with his pulse. It was bad enough that he was almost tying her stomach in knots, and it was all she could do to not turn around and demand for him to stop. Her defenses were tattered today, what with the past weekend, and then this morning, and all the problems she was having with Mark and Effie, and having to respond to having Knives and Vash and all in her life again. She could hardly block anyone's feelings from impacting her, and when it came to someone she already knew well, someone she was attuned to, well…

It was truly amazing she could function. 

"You don't have to worry," she said as she put her key in the lock, forgetting that Knives had destroyed the latch. The door pushed open easily, and she frowned. "He's not here." And he left the place wide open to thieves, she didn't say.

"How do you know?" he asked testily.

"Because I would be able to sense him if he were here," she said, pushing the door the rest of the way open and slipping out of her jacket. Maybe he went to go find a locksmith. Or another doorknob. She tossed the jacket on the couch then turned towards the bedroom.

"How?" he persisted, following after, not allowing her a moment of privacy. She wondered if that was because of his curiosity or because of his orders.

"Because I'm a plant. And he's a plant. And I would know if he was that close." She smiled a little as she heard him follow her into the bedroom. Maybe he would tell her if she asked. If she could be so cruel as to make him think about what he was doing… No, better to let him react. He might react to a friend, but remember to think about his enemy. "It's a bit like… hearing. He makes a certain _noise_ that other plants can hear."

"Do you make that noise?" he asked, tension peaking in his voice as she opened the armoire. 

"Nope. I'm sneaky; I mask it."

"Why?"

"Because I'm in the habit of being sneaky, mostly. I'm not comfortable with the thought that people can sense me whenever I get near. Bugs me." She stripped off her shirt and threw a glance over her shoulder to catch him blushing. Not like he hadn't basically see all of her back last weekend as her shirt had been a mess, but guys could be funny. She was wearing a bra, for crying out loud. What was so blush-worthy to see?

He was cute while he blushed, but he was also looking at her side closely. "That's… it looks different, there."

"Where I got shot?" She sat on the bed and half-scooted, half-rolled closer to him so he could get a better look, dragging her new shirt in her left hand. "Yes, it does. The skin's still new and fresh. And if you look, you can see where I got cut when you beat me up, like here, here, and here," she said, pointing to the afflicted areas.

He glanced at the places she motioned to, then looked her in the eyes. "You are taking this whole thing very calmly."

"Would it help if I screamed?" she said with a sigh. "I'm used to being beaten up. It's honestly normal for me. Sometimes, when I thought about how long it had been since the last time someone had hurt me, I would get this weird, tight feeling in my stomach, like there was something wrong. Isn't that sad?" she mused as she pulled her shirt on. "Anyway, unlike you, I've had some inkling that a day like this was coming. Mentally, I'm prepared. Mostly. As much as I can be really."

"You're used to being hurt?"

"I didn't flinch, did I?" she said sadly, then stood and didn't look him in the eye any longer. "Let's go back to work."

"Let's not. Not until you answer me. Who hurt you? Knives? Vash?"

She laughed. "Vash wouldn't hurt anyone unless they forced him to. He hates the concept of death, and the reality of pain with a passion I can scarcely comprehend, let alone understand."

"Was it Millions, then?"

"He didn't hurt me very much. Nothing more than I deserved."

"What? You deserved?" She stayed silent. "Who then? Who hurt you?"

She looked at the ground. "My step-father," she whispered. 

"Plants don't have families."

She turned and gave him a crooked smile, but still didn't meet his eyes. "I am not the normal sort of plant. It's a long, boring, and frankly, unbelievable story, and we need, I need to get back to work." She swallowed past the tight feeling in her throat. She stepped forward, looking ahead of her again, but couldn't go very far. Mark's hand encircled her upper arm, not tightly, but firmly. She could break that hold, but not without breaking him.

"Let go of me, Mark. I'm tired of hurting you."

"Then stop lying to me. What the hell sort of creature are you?"

"I'm not lying to you."

"But you aren't telling me anything," he said, his voice breaking on the last word. He let go of her arm, his own falling to lie limply and uselessly at his side while he tried to think of something he could say or do to make her talk to him. 

Her shoulders slumped suddenly, and she turned and looked him in the eyes.

"I'm a reincarnated soul. Doesn't that sound silly?" Then she smiled that crooked little smile again and walked away.


	61. Who are you?

I'm cold.

*******************************************************************************

"You're a what?" he called after her. "That doesn't make any sense."

"I'm a reincarnated soul. Or totally crazy, depending on how you want to see it." She sat down on the couch and rested her forehead on the base of her palms. "I remember my past life. In excruciating detail. Said life where I was not a plant, had a family, and died a horrible death after a long and not terribly well-lived existence. 

"Sometimes I wonder if this planet is supposed to be heaven or hell for me," she muttered. In a normal tone she continued, "But it's just another life for me."

"Say that again," he asked, sitting beside her. "I'm not sure I heard you right."

"I lived. I died. I came here to start the cycle again." She sat back in the couch and rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes.

"That's… crazy."

"Yeah, that's the other option."

"But… I mean, how?"

"A being that span dimensions brought me here, chucked me in Knives' ship, then sat back to watch the fun times that ensued."

"A what?"

"I called her Dream Dancer. Isn't that trite? When I was… dying…the only thing that kept me from breaking was my hope that after that life I might find a place where my dreams could come true. I believed in her with all my heart, all my soul, all my mind. Everything. And when I died, she collected my soul, told me that she loved me, and then said that my dreams lay here. Lying bitch," she said without heat.

"Your dreams?"

"Silly things. Love. Peace. Nothing I've found yet. I was supposed to fall in love with the first person I saw. That was Knives." She snorted. "And peace? What part of peace has you and Effie and Mr. Herman in it? I'm tired of fighting, but that's the only thing I do. The only thing I know how to do, I guess." She tried to keep her tone light, but her feelings betrayed her, twisting what she said from a joke into how she truly felt. 

"That's… impossible."

"Then explain to me how I know what rain smells like. It doesn't rain here. Tell me how I know what a forest feels like, an old forest, filled with trees hundreds of years old. Tell me how I know what the ocean tastes like, the feel of brine in a cut, the sharp sting of water against your skin. Tell me how I know these things, if my last life wasn't real.

"Tell me why I'm so messed up in this one if I didn't live my last one. Tell me that."

"I… you want me to believe that not only are you a plant, you're not even a normal one of those?"

"What's normal, Mark?" she asked, lifting her head and looking him in the eye. "I'm just me. That's all I know how to be."

"This is insane. Or you are." He stood and began to pace the room. "Another life? You?" he asked turning his head to shoot her an incredulous look before he returned to looking at his feet as he paced. "The woman with the least life in the lab? The most boring person around, the colorless mouse. You know that's what they call you; not all of them are kind enough to say it behind your back. You. A full life? And died? How did you die?"

"Torture."

He stopped pacing and shot her a startled look. "Torture?"

"Yes. Death by torture."

"That's what you meant, when you said that you had recently undergone a course in torture, back then, wasn't it?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. It was. I thought it sounded better if I seemed to have been being trained in the finer use of the art and not been shown."

"Tortured. To death. Did you deserve it?"

"They thought so."

"Did you?"

She didn't answer. 

He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders. "Tell me. Do you think you deserved to be tortured to death?"

She didn't meet his eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

"Damn." He pushed back and resumed his pacing, repeating the word with each step he took. "What did you do?"

"I killed people."

"Well, at least you've stayed in character in this life."

Her eyes flashed angrily, but she kept her mouth shut. The anger died away almost as swiftly as it arose, to be replaced with a dull apathy. She knew what it was like to not have a soul. It felt a lot like this.

"How many?"

"How many what?" she repeated dully, her mind having shut itself out of the conversation already.

"How many people did you kill?"

"Ten thousand," she barked out, the direct question sparking the anger again. "All up close and personal. Each died close enough for me to see the life drain out of their eyes." Then the tinder for the spark of feeling guttered and died, and she returned to feeling listless.

"My… god…." He fell silent and turned to face the far wall, mind racing as he tried to comprehend death on that scale.

"I thought I was doing the right thing. Then I found I had been wrong. Feel free to hate me," she said diffidently as she stood up from the couch. "I need to get back to work."


	62. Her answer

Another day without Knives. Honest, he's coming back into the story.

*******************************************************************************

His pacing ended as he raced towards the door. He barely reached it before she exited, but barely was enough. Bracing himself in the doorframe, he refused to let her through. She didn't try to force past him, though. She said nothing, just paused a foot from him and stared past him into the open hallway. 

"What happened?" he asked softly. 

"Nothing happened. I had a job. I did my job. That's it." Her voice was dead, entirely devoid of the timbre and inflection that normally gave her voice life. This was what he had assumed all plants would sound like, but coming from her lips, it was wrong, so very wrong.

"What job?"

"I killed the people I was told to kill, and anyone who stood in my way. I was the flashy danger, the reason given when some decided that it might be better to toe the line. I was necessary, they told me I was necessary, and there was no one who could ever be as good at killing as I was." Her voice warmed up a little, and Mark was glad. That had been too wrong, too scary.

"Who were they?" he asked, gently putting one hand on her shoulder and steering her back to her couch. She sat down oddly, like she wasn't really thinking about sitting at all. Her eyes stared at the wall on the opposite side of the room, but he had a feeling that wasn't what she was seeing. She appeared to be lost in her mind, in her memories, and he wondered how he could have known her for so long, and have only guessed at the weight of the past that she carried. He had known that there was something, but this? It was unbelievable.

"They were… they were my government. They were my leaders and my visionaries and my teachers and my friends. I thought I was doing something bad so that they could make something good come out of it. And I was willing to do that, heap all the sins on my shoulders so, in the end, a better future could be made. But there was no better future, and there always were more people to kill. And killing… it's so easy a step to take. Very easy to see a cause and think that it's one you can die for. And if you would die for it, why not kill for it? But they never tell you that you should live for it, no, not that. Living is too hard, and they'll never get anywhere if they decide to live for it. Living… that takes generations, no power there for those who want power. No, the power is in terror and chaos, and you can seize the power you want through the chaos. And they told me to be their chaos, and I accepted," she rambled.

"You killed because they told you to?"

"Who they told me, and when. And where. Never why, and rarely how. I was bloody enough that they never wanted more from me. I was their perfect tool. But they forgot that a person makes a bad tool. They thought I was a good tool, that I was all broken and they could fit me to their hand but I wasn't broken, not all the way, not completely and I realized that they would never make peace. When the people I was killing were just those that they couldn't intimidate into working for them, and that there were bad people who I wasn't allowed to kill because they were part of the power of those who commanded me, I quit. I had had enough, I had killed enough, and I quit."

"What did you do then?"

"They threw me into the worst job they could possibly imagine, the one that they were sure would kill me off in a matter of months. But it didn't. I lived, and then I thrived, and I learned how to live for something, and then I was getting powerful so they threw my past in my face, and then betrayed me to our enemies and I was tortured to death.

She shook her head, and life returned to her voice and her eyes. "Happy now?" she groused. "My life story, minus not very much. I need to get back to work."

"Who were your enemies?"

She looked at her hands. "I have never been what you would term fully human, even when I wasn't a plant. Back there, I was a Genalt, a being created to utilize parts of the mind that normal humans rarely have access to. So I could do things like heal, and sense emotions, and all of that my whole life. Lives. But there are always people ready to brand those who are different as demons, as anathema and needing to be killed. Everything was fine when there were only a few of us. We were created beings, slaves to those who created us. But then came children, and grandchildren, and some of the children had a Genalt for a parent and a human for the other. What of their rights? And finally, some countries said we had rights, and other countries retaliated and took away what freedoms had been enjoyed, and then there were wars, and there were weapons of mass destruction, and the wars stopped, for the most part, but nothing was really settled. The world ended up with one government that granted us rights, but there are all these splinter factions, except that splinter makes them seem small, and not all of them are, and they still fight, still see us as inhuman.

"And I don't want that to happen here. I am human, no matter what you may think, and I don't want to have to keep trying to prove that I am, just because I can do some stuff that you can't."


	63. His response

She stopped talking and tucked her hands between her knees. Mark grabbed her gently by the wrists and slid his hands until her palms rested on his. He was surprised by how clammy her palms were. He didn't say anything, just held her hands for a few minutes.

Finally, she spoke. "They messed up, thinking I was broken. If I had been, I would never have joined the army. I would have stayed under the thumb of my stepfather my entire life. Done his bidding, been his toy. They forgot that I could bide my time until I could make a move they couldn't counter. It was just so easy, doing what they told me. I didn't have to think, didn't have to pretend that I knew how to get through each day on my own. I didn't have to pretend that I knew how to interact with other people, that I knew what it was like to be a normal person. It was so easy to just be a tool, to just sit and let someone else think for me. But I didn't pick the right people to think for me, shouldn't have let anyone think for me. But I was so tired of trying to pretend that life was even worth living that the chance to prove that it wasn't was too much for me to pass by."

She lifted her eyes and looked at him. Her gaze was clear, but pained. "Do you know what it's like, to have to live knowing that you sold your soul for a false sense of peace? To know that you fought for nothing you believed in, but so that some power crazed men could consolidate their grip on the world? To know that you brought so much pain to so many families, and for nothing? The final irony is that, at the end, my stepfather was one of the men in charge, one of the echelon who had directed my killings. Had I continued on that path, I'd just have ended up under his thumb again."

She shook herself and slipped her hands from his. "I don't want to fight anymore. I don't want to kill. It sickens me on a level that you'd never believe that my hands took your cousin's life. I don't want power, I don't want to dictate what is and isn't right for the world. Given the choice, I would love to just sit in my garden and play, growing things. There is something incredibly calming about gardening, about being surrounded by uncomplicated forms of life. 

"I just can't sit by and let anyone be slaves. I can't. They, the people in the plants, they don't mind being what they are. They don't demand to be let out of the bulbs… well, not most of them. But they're dying. And I can't sit in my garden and play while that happens. 

"So, here I am. One very flawed person, trying her hardest to come to a solution that everyone can live with. So I can live with myself." She lapsed into silence again, and they sat on the couch for a few moments, neither saying a word.

He stood and walked into the kitchen. She heard water running, but stayed where she was. Her gaze was centered on her hands. She looked at the various small scars around her knuckles, fingers danced lightly over each other until Mark came back with two glasses of water. She felt strangely at peace, having finally confessed. Whatever came next, at least it would be real.

"Here," he said, handing her one. She accepted and gulped most of the liquid down quickly, saving only the last few swallows to spin about in the bottom of her glass.

"I can't say that I really understand all of what you just said, but from the sound of it, you screwed up big time," he said. "And have spent some unspecified period of time trying to recover from it. You know, it's funny. Effie and I have talked, wondering what had happened to you that would steal the light from your eyes, the laughter from your throat. I'm not sure you even notice it when it happens, but it's often that you will just… stop being happy, all of a sudden. As is whatever it was that pleased you cannot fight the weight of your past.

"I just never thought it would be what you say it is."

She laughed, a quick bark. "Yeah, that's a shock. You guys never figured me for an inter-dimensional reformed assassin. I can't believe that wasn't near the top of your list; I mean it's just so _common_."

"Is that why you are, why you could take people down so easily?"

She nodded. "Training, and lots of it. Granted, plant reflexes make some of that stuff easier, but none of it is instinctual. It's work, and hard work. You have to learn how to assess a situation before you enter it. You could have a minute or a second, but you still need to know how to see what's there. To know who you have to take down first. T know how to take them out without putting yourself into a corner you can't get out of. 

"Actually, the office fight was fairly simple. I had plenty of time to assess you guys, to know who was jumpy and who would need to be taken down first because they kept fiddling with their gun and were going to be more of a danger to everyone else in the room then they would be to me."

"You're kidding. You took David down because he was going to shoot someone else? I know the man is a bit trigger happy, but that's one of the reasons he was there."

"He's not trigger happy, he's just looking for an excuse to kill someone. That man has a very yucky mind. But yes, I took him out first so he wouldn't screw up and hurt one of you guys. I'm tough, I've been shot too many times to count, and it takes a lot more to kill me off than it would you. And I'd hate having to live with more deaths on my conscience."


	64. Wrong words

My subconscious sabotaged my attempt to wake up and write last night.

********************************************************************************

He looked at her, and she glanced his way periodically as the seconds passed, trying to gauge his reaction. He seemed open, seemed to be thinking about what she had said, seemed to be weighing her words, seemed to be listening to her. And then he closed down, turned away, and she could see that whatever impact her words had on him, it hadn't ended positively.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"What are you thinking?"

"It's… You use violence so easily for someone who says she hates to kill." His eyes narrowed as he allowed her to prod a reason from him. His entire mien grew cold, distant, and what she could feel from him turned her heart to ice.

She pulled back from him, their physical closeness only accentuating the discomfort that he emoted. "It's the easy answer," she explained, trying to find words that would make him think again, make him change his mind. "There's the part of me that knows it isn't an answer, that knows that violence is only a tool, and a poor one at that. Then there is the part of me that trained to kill until it was easy, that reveled in the fear of others because it makes… made… me feel powerful. It's a fight between what I know is the right thing to do and what is easiest for me. I fight being a killer every day, but it is always a fight. How much easier do you think it would have been for me to just kill you all in the office? Much easier than just knocking everyone unconscious, I assure you. If Mr. Herman were dead, well, that would fix the immediate problem, wouldn't it? No one coming after me and mine anymore. 

"I'm not an altruist. It might be easier in the short term if I just killed you all now, but I don't want to have to fight for the rest of my life, and that would be my ultimate gain if I indulged in indiscriminate slaughter right now. And sometimes killing is the right answer. Sometimes people aren't going to change, or aren't going to change soon enough to make a difference. 

"I'm really the last person who could say that someone is too evil to ever change, but I also don't think that someone should embark on a course of action without knowing that there can be consequences. And one of the consequences to acting like an evil bastard is that someone might decide that you need killing. The fact that you may change into sweetness and light at a later date does not preclude the threat you may pose."

He sat for a moment, mulling over what she had said and despite her attempt to stop it, her hopes soared. "You make things sound so easy. Killing is bad, but sometimes necessary," he said mockingly, and her hopes dropped like a stone. He looked at her. "I think that as well." His hand dropped to the gun at his hip and his voice grew colder. "I think that there are some things that are a threat and need to be killed."

Anne sighed and stood up from the couch. "Fine, Mark. You have the whole story now. You know what I am. You know what I was. You think you know what I can do." She stood six feet from him and swept her arms out. "Take the shot. Head shot is your best bet, but a heart shot should take care of me, too." She closed her eyes.

He stared at her for a moment, then moved his hand from his side. "I'm not going to kill you like this. It's too easy for you. You act all innocent and unarmed, and if I kill you now you'll just go on to your next life with even more of a martyr complex then you're showing now.

Her eyes flew open. "Excuse me? A what complex?"

"You heard me. You act like the fate of the future lies in your unworthy hands. That's the point of that whole little story, wasn't it? To make me realize how hard it is for you to be one of the good guys?"

"No… That's… What…" she sputtered.

"Just stop it. Pity me, I'm a killer," he said in a falsetto. "I'm not impressed. There are many people on this planet who have taken lives. We live with it, and we don't throw it in people's faces as an excuse for our actions. Life ends. That's normal, expected. What isn't normal, what's freakish and wrong is things like yourself that refuse to die," he snarled.

"I can't help that," she wailed. "It's not my fault I'm a plant!"

"So? It's not a sand worm's fault that it's a sand worm, but we kill them all the same because they're dangerous."

She dropped her arms and turned to leave, swallowing hard around the lump that had appeared in her throat. 

He stood and silently followed after, pulling the door closed behind him as they passed into the hall.

"Sand worms aren't sentient," she hissed through clenched teeth as he drew beside her in the hallway.

"I fail to see what difference that makes," he said airily.

"You can't reason with a sand worm, ask it to not be dangerous."

"How many of those people you killed tried to reason with you?" he shot back.

"I was just doing my job."

"And why did they pick you for the job, hmm? Because you were harmless?"

"No. Dammit, Mark, I know I screwed up. Stop acting like who I was is who I am."

"Well, I figure there was a reason you told me that tale. A warning maybe? So I know not to push you too far?"

"No! I just thought you should know all the truth about me. No more secrets."

"No more until you spill the next one."

"There aren't anymore."

"Why should I believe a word you say, freak?"


	65. Scene change

*peeks* Oops, no Knives yet. At this rate, I'm never going to get this story done

********************************************************************************

They continued back to the plant in silence after that exchange. Anne didn't know what to say, and Mark obviously felt that he had said enough. A light tension settled between them, not indicated so much by how they reacted to each other's presence as it was by how quickly they walked back to work. Both of them had long legs, and it wasn't until they quickly overtook an old lady walking ahead of them that Anne even realized that they had begun to race. 

She slowed then, and after an annoyed glance Mark followed suit. She bit back a sigh and wished that she had known four days ago what was coming. It might have made this less painful now. 

She just wished that she could get through to him. When she was able to get him off-balance, able to get him to react rather than think, then he actually seemed to listen to what she had to say. But as soon as she stopped pushing at him, he retreated back into that infuriating mind set where she was nothing more than an evil monster.

She kicked at a rock, knocking it ahead of them and moving it along as they neared the plant. This whole situation was just so wrong. She hadn't been lying when she said that she wasn't a diplomat. It was a major accomplishment for her to not blurt out whatever was on her mind at any given time. Real diplomats don't ever say anything important, and here she was, telling him everything in less that a day. She never could keep her mouth shut. Why had she felt the need to unburden herself to Mark? To stop lying to him? Yeah, that probably was it.

A sigh escaped her. She hated lying. Lies only make life harder. When you lie you're just admitting that you are too weak to face the truth. She had believed that for so many years, had repeated it to those who would gloss over details in the hope that she might go easier on them. Her husband had hated it when she said that. He believed that lies were a valid tool of expression, that they had their place. It was one of the things they had argued about.

She wondered if maybe she was too weak to face this truth. Had she ever told them, told Mark and Effie how much their friendship meant to her? Had she told them that they had helped her past the nervous breakdown she had suffered after she had left Knives? She had been a wreck when she arrived in December, barely able to look people in the eye, always wondering if they were going to hurt her, too. When she had gotten the job at the plant, people had stayed away from her.

Not that she could blame them, she had still been raw inside, still trying to adapt to being around people again. Then they had become her friends, and not for any reason she could fathom. Maybe because misfits fell together? Misery loves company?

She shook her head a bit to clear it as she fished in her pocket for her security badge. Whatever the reason they had become her friends, they had been the best of friends. She had wanted to hold on to that friendship too much to risk it by telling the truth, telling them who she was and why she worked at the plant.

And now all the secrets were out. Her fear that they would hate her proved to be well-founded, and now she had to pretend that the cold shoulder didn't hurt.

So she dug deep and found a smile, plastered it to her lips, and hoped that no one looked at her eyes. The two of them walked through the lab, drawing a few glances from bored co-workers, but no one spared them a second thought.

Mark left her at the door to her office with the firm injunction to stay put while he was gone. A firm hand to her lower back propelled her into her room, and then the door was closed behind her. She sighed and sat down at her desk. Pulling up some of the smaller problems she had ignored while working on the hot project, she refreshed her memory and tried to concentrate enough to get some work done.

It was hard, though, when all she wanted to do was cry. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her elbows on the edge of the desk, but she resisted putting her head in her hands or it would all be over. Instead, she stared at the far wall and pretended that she was having a good day.

Her pretend day was shattered by the sound of the door opening behind her. Startled, and slightly ashamed to have been caught feeling sorry for herself, she quickly straightened her shoulders and plastered a professional smile on her face. She half-turned, looking back to see who had entered.

Then the smile froze on her face.

"Oh, hi Effie," she offered weakly in the face of a thundering bad mood.

"I'm only here because Mark didn't want you unobserved," she snarled.

Anne lost the smile. "I see," she said cautiously. 

Effie scowled. "I hate you."

"I gathered that."

"All you plants seem to be fascinated with me. Is that the only reason you pretended to be my friend?"

"I never pretended. Ever."

"Bullshit," she snarled. "Bullshit. What is it, what makes you all think I'm so interesting?" Her voice took on a pleading note under the anger. "What's so special about me?"

Anne sighed, and finally voiced what had made her pay attention to Effie in the first place. "I think the reason the plants responded to you is because you have many of the same mental gifts we do."


	66. Genealogy

Considering how long this plot has been brewing, it's no surprise that it's beginning to thicken up a little.

*******************************************************************************

Effie scowled. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Anne shrugged. "Not much, really. It's just…. Plants in the bulbs don't operate on the same level that you and I do. They were designed to be able to talk to each other on a mental frequency, a telepathy, if you will. I thinks it's because the people in charge of designing them -- us -- knew that since we are human, putting us in a closed environment with no means of communication would not be a good idea if they wanted to end up with sane little energy producers. 

"What intrigues plants with you is that they can hear you. Sound waves don't really travel through the bulbs, not with any clarity at least. So, to the plants, it's as if they are moving in a world without sound, and then all of a sudden you walk in, babbling away. Of course they are curious.

"You're crazy," she said flatly.

"No. And neither are you. You have just managed to repress many of the traits that make you seem different from the main body of humanity. Anything that makes you seem unusual, like picking up the thoughts of others, you have walled away from your conscious mind. 

"Really, it's part of the reason you are such an awesome coordinator. You can literally pick up on the thoughts of others and find a common ground for them to all work towards. It someone has the wrong idea, you know, and you also know when they finally understand. It's a great way to use your talents, I am truly impressed," she commented.

Effie scowled at Anne. "I'm not a freak like you."

Anne snorted. "I'm not a freak, either. Different, yes, I'll grant that. But I'm not a freak. And neither are you."

She changed tactics a bit. "Back when we first met, do you remember why you kissed me? It's because I kept looking at you, remember? You thought I was too repressed to make the first move." She smiled at the memory. "I was trying to find a way to broach the subject, to figure out if you even needed me to. You are doing a very good job of repressing your talents. If you hadn't been, or if you had seemed to want to know how to use them, I would have offered to help you out, teach you how to use them. But you never needed me to, so I didn't."

"Thanks for small favors." Bitterness dripped from her voice, and Anne didn't know if that was an improvement over the scorn.

She sighed. "You can't have had no clue about this. I know you suspected something. I mean, it's not like the people in the little anti-plant conspiracy have been keeping you around because you are so fervently anti-plant. They knew as well as you did that you were a bit different."

Effie scowled but said nothing.

"What's the running theory? That you might be some sort of plant hybrid? They researched your genealogy, didn't they, but ran into a bit of trouble with your maternal grandmother. Seems she came out of nowhere, doesn't it?"

"She wasn't a plant. She grew old and died like any regular human."

"I wasn't saying she was. I know who she was, that's all."

"How? How do you know that?"

Anne settled back in her chair and folded her arms over her stomach. "Once, there was a very crazy man," she started, in lieu of explanation. "This man thought that all humans were scum. He knew they were, see, because he could look into their minds. What he saw there, the pain, the suffering, the planned petty cruelties, all the hurt that everyone carries with them, he saw evil, and in the seeing he found that he cared for being human not at all. And this man found someone who was above it all. Someone's mind he could not see into, someone who seemed special, above the petty concerns of mankind like a god is above the crawling of worms. 

"He glorified this man, followed his every whim. Unfortunately, this man he decided to follow was not a god, but slightly insane and very bent on the destruction of humanity. So now we have two crazy men, one very powerful who lends an air of legitimacy to the first man's hatred of the human race, and one who's following greatly helps the powerful being spread destruction.

"So this crazy man was enlisted to fight the bad fight, to seed chaos across the face of the plant. If all went well, it would only be a few decades until the plague known as man was eradicated. And instead of seeing his family suffer through the coming apocalypse, he decided that it was a gentler end for them all to die at his hands.

"But he missed one. Your grandmother. She had run away from her family before the bloodshed began, had watched as her crazy cousin started acting a little more sane. She didn't join in with the rest of the family's rejoicings, noticed a gleam in his eye that boded ill. The night before he slaughtered them all, she escaped to the far side of the planet and changed her identity. In time she married and had children, and they had children, who in turn had you. 

"And he went on to die at the hands of his master's brother, sure that his death was ordained and just, and that dying at the hands of a higher being was the best end he could hope for." Anne paused, took a deep breath, and continued. "Your great-uncle, once removed, was Legato Bluesummers. And gifts like he evinced tend to run in families."


	67. Responsibility

Knives is coming into the story soon, promise.

********************************************************************************

"My great-what was who?" Her scowl deepened.

Anne bit back a sigh. "Your grandmother was the cousin of a man who followed Millions Knives around for a bit. He was the leader of the Gung-Hi Guns, and Knives' means of affecting the world while he was stuck in a bulb. His name was Legato Bluesummers, and aside from being a very crazy man, he also had gifts like yours."

"How do you know this? Why do you say that I'm related to someone who served a plant? Making a bid for me to continue a family tradition?"

Anne shrugged. "I know this because I knew that Legato had mind gifts like yours. And since things like that tend to run in families, I looked up his relatives. All were killed at his hands, save one who had actually disappeared years before he began killing off his family. I made up that little night before stuff because I thought it made a better story," she explained. 

"But what make you think that she was my grandmother?"

"Because the ages, and the time that your grandmother showed up match with her disappearance. I think she may have been a bit of a precognitive talent, enough to know that sticking around the family would see her killed. So she ran, started a new life long before anyone thought that Legato was anything worse than a sullen, quiet child. And she lived."

"Why do I need to be related to him at all? What's so great about this guy?"

Anne blinked, feeling that Effie was missing the point. Wasn't Legato infamous? Belatedly, she wondered if her way of encountering the planet's backstory might have introduced a bias that Effie didn't share.

Oh well.

"There's nothing really great about him. Aside from being a crazy, murdering bastard, all that's worth noting about him is that Knives transplanted Vash's arm onto him.

"You mean, that guy was Legato? I'm related to that freak?"

"I think so, yes."

"No way."

"It's quite likely."

"But… he tortured people to death with his mind. There's no way I could do that."

Anne let the fact that Effie had slipped up a bit slide. "He had Vash's arm," she explained instead. "I think you know that the power sources lie along the humerus. With the addition of Vash's arm, Legato could draw on greater powers than an unaltered human would have access to."

"So he was a freak made freakier. Big deal, and what does it have to do with me? Any amputations in your future?"

Anne shook her head slowly. "I just thought that you might want to know that what you know, what you can sense from others sometimes is real. And that if you ever need any help controlling what you sense, or if you want to work on developing rather than suppressing what you can do, I would be happy to help you out."

"What? So I would owe you a debt of gratitude? So you could use me in whatever nefarious scheme you have going? Not likely," she snorted.

Anne bristled a little. "One, my scheme is not nefarious. Just thought I would clear that up. Two, what is it with you guys? I heal Mark's leg, _finally_ get to, I might add, and what's his response? Thank you? Nooo. He stabs me in the leg just so I know how thankful he isn't."

"You deserved it," she muttered.

"That is neither here nor there. I offer to help you, and you instantly think that I'm going to try to use you. Have I made such a habit of using people, that you think I'm going to turn about and try to manipulate you?"

"I haven't seen you. But that just means you're very subtle."

Anne snorted. "Subtle, I'm not. Look, consider it a gift. I don't expect anything in exchange. It's just that I'm one of the few people on this planet that have any idea of the scope of what you could be capable of, and I'd hate to see that potential wasted because you just don't know how to use it."

"Potential for destruction. You can keep it." Effie's scowl deepened.

"It's not just for destruction. There are all sorts of ways you can use what you've been given. Like Mark's leg, you could heal with it. I'm not trying to argue you into anything you don't want to do. I'm just letting you know that there are more possibilities for you than just a group facilitator in the December plant."

"Oh, so now you're trying to steal me away from my job. You know that I like it here. Why would I want to be anywhere else, doing anything else?"

Anne looked past Effie, and her voice gained a touch of melancholy. "Because sometimes, where you want to be isn't the place that you should be." She shook herself. "It's responsibility, really. When you can do things that other people can't, you have a responsibility that they don't. It's up to you to decide if you're going to accept that you might have a deeper purpose in this life. And I'm not about to say whether you do or don't; I'm just offering my help if you decide that you do. That's all."

Effie continued to scowl. "As if I would want your help. Liar that you are, this is probably all a ploy to get me to do your bidding."

"I don't do ploys. You've known me for years. How many ploys have I employed?"

"How should I know? I haven't known you at all."

"You've known me as much as anyone else on this planet. I'm sorry I kept the fact that I'm a plant secret. What were my options? Secrecy or death? Would you have chosen the former or the latter? Oh, no, wait. You've already decided to be secretive with your talents. Little hypocritical today, aren't we?" Anne said cattily.


	68. The file

"I am not a hypocrite. And I'm not a freak, either. You can save your stories and your platitudes for someone else. I'm not buying it." 

Anne rolled her eyes. "Oh, and that's mature. If you don't think about it, it's not a problem, huh? Is that your plan?"

"Thinks about what? I only have your word that I'm a freak. The word of an accomplished liar, I might add."

"My word, the actions of the plants whenever you get near, and the fact that you know what you are. I know why you're being kept in December, why they have you working here. It's not to keep an eye on you Effie, although that's part of it. It's not because you hate plants, although that helps you out some, gives you more freedoms than you might have otherwise enjoyed. It's because when you are near the plants, when you are physically in this building, the plants work better. I've seen your file. They have graphs, they have plotted out the times when you are in the building and when you aren't, and juxtaposed these with the plant production charts. The closer you are to the plants, the better they perform."

"My file? What file?"

Anne sighed. "Our bosses keep files on the odd people. You, me, now, I suppose, and a few other people in December who have demonstrated talents outside the norm." She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "I suppose it's not entirely a bad thing, but the thought creeps me out a little, that someone feels the need to monitor me that closely. But anyway, you have a file. It's electronic, it's online, and anything that gets into an electronic database somewhere, I can get it out. I ran across it when I was trying to work out if you were related to the Bluesummers' at all. It was a bit of an interesting read, some fun facts like the plant performance thing."

"I have a file? You read my file? How dare you read my file?"

Anne put her hands up. "I think you're missing the point a little. All I'm getting at is that the plants, or at least the living ones, work better when you are around. My theory is it's because they can hear a bit of life through you, are intrigued by you. Their curiosity wakes them from their typical doldrums, and they work better because they are actually paying attention to their life."

"You read my file."

"Will you get over that? Just wait, I'll have a file soon enough, and you can read my file. Will that make you happy?"

"I want to read my file. You've gotten to read my file, and I didn't even know there was a file out there I had to read." Effie pouted.

Anne sighed. "I can pull it up for you, if you like."

Effie perked up. "Would you? I want to read my file."

She shook her head, but pulled the file up onto her monitor. "Here. All I could find was in this folder, both what they had on you and what I've been able to find out on my own." She stood and offered her chair.

Effie glared at her as they passed the edge of her desk. "I can't believe you went behind my back to research me. How cold and inhuman is that?"

"Well, I could hardly ask you directly, now, could I?"

"That's no excuse," she said absently as she scanned the list of file names. "Wait, they did a gene scan on me? What were they looking for?"

"Plant tags. Genetically, humans and plants are very, very similar. But there are a few places where there are differences between the two."

"Did they find any?"

"Not really. There were a few that are questionable, but the ones they found only have to do with the enhanced mental characteristics. And that's not really surprising, as I found that Bluesummers genes were used in the development of plants in the first place."

"You're kidding me."

"Nope. Plants, being manufactured beings, were created from many gene sources. It just so happens that the Bluesummers family tree provided some of them."

"That's impossible."

"No… actually, it's not. One of the reasons the Bluesummers were on the SEEDS ships in the first place was because they were trying to escape some of the publicity that their contribution to the plant project garnered them. They weren't called Bluesummers then, but as far as I can tell, the family that provided the gene data was yours."

She stopped looking at the files. "Why? You mean, they chose to leave earth? Were the insane?"

Anne shook her head. "No. But they were very harassed. Either they were called witches and mobs formed to try to kill them, or they were pestered by people who thought they could perform miracles. I think they just wanted to live quietly where people didn't know what they could do."

"Huh." She opened a file at random and began to read. After about a minute she closed it and opened another. This one stayed open perhaps fifteen seconds before it was closed in favor of a third file. Effie scowled and started to quickly browse through the files, opening and closing them at random.

"This is all boring," she said finally, slowing her rapid search."

"I know it is. But it's all about you."

"I didn't know I was this boring," she muttered.

"Well, you haven't actually done anything yet. There's just a lot of stuff in there that tries to define your potential. I'm sorry it's not more juicy," she apologized.

Effie glared at her, but without the heat she had shown that morning. "You say I have a file, then expect this to meet what I had imagined? Are you crazy?"

Anne shrugged. "My sanity is questionable at the best of times," she offered in lieu of an apology.


	69. Getting ready

Soon, my pretties….

********************************************************************************

When Mark arrived, he was surprised by what he saw. Anne was taking a bit of a nap in the visitor's chair, while Effie was scowling at a particularly obtuse piece of text. 

"Are you… ok?" he asked her softly as he moved in the door.

She nodded distractedly, then looked up at him, her gaze sharpening. "Did you know I have a file?"

He flushed a little but didn't respond. 

"Am I the only person here who didn't know I have a file?" she asked the ceiling rhetorically before returning to her perusal. 

Her question was sharp enough to wake Anne from her doze.

"Oh, hi Mark. You all packed and ready?" she asked as she rubbed at her eyes.

"I'm packed," he said shortly, bumping his bag into her chair to emphasize the fact.

"And are we ready?"

He scowled.

"Ready for what?" asked Effie, looking at the two of them. "Don't tell me that you're running away with that tart finally."

Mark narrowed his eyes and looked first at Effie, then at Anne as she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snort of laughter. "No. Mr. Herman said that I get to sit and watch her and her fellow freaks while he tries to figure out what to do with them."

Effie shuddered. "Have fun. Glad I'm not you."

"I wish I weren't me, either, thank you very much."

"Sorry to be such a problem for you," Anne muttered at the floor. "Not my idea."

"But it is your fault," he said.

She looked up at him, puzzled. "My fault how? For breathing?"

"Sure. If you were in the bulb still you wouldn't be breathing, and you wouldn't be a problem."

"And then where would this project be?" she said airily. "Not to say I'm the only one working here," she said hastily as Effie looked at her incredulously, "but you can't deny that I've played a major part in getting us as far as we have as quickly as we have."

"Like that means anything," said Mark harshly.

"Well… I thought it meant something last week. When your racist tendencies weren't showing so obviously." She returned to looking at her hands.

"I'm not a racist," he pointed out politely. "I just don't think that freaks like you have any reason to be interacting with normal people."

"I am normal, Mark. I'm just a normal me."

"Normal people do not send laser beams out of their fingertips."

"I did not!" she protested. "It wasn't a laser. Just light." She formed a ball of pale green light and floated it towards the ceiling. "See?" she said, pointing at it. "Light, sans bulb."

They both stared at her soundlessly until she sighed and let the light fade. "Fine. No light," she apologized. "But it's not a laser," she muttered under her breath. 

"It's still freakish," Mark said after a moment. "No human could do something like that."

Anne kept her mouth shut and carefully didn't look at Effie.

"What?" she said. "Are you saying I could do something like that?" she demanded.

Anne shrugged and looked at her. "It's not hard. Not entirely practical, but it can be a fun trick at birthday parties and dance clubs."

Mark looked between them. "What are you two saying?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," they chimed together innocently. Effie went back to her reading, and Anne stood and stretched the last of the sleep from her joints. 

"Ok, Mark. Let's go introduce you to the rest of my family."

"Do we have to?" he muttered as he backed out the door to her office.

"Well, they've kind of taken over my house. As soon as I need a change of clothes, you're going to get to meet them."

"Lucky me."

"Some people might say that. Stupid people, mostly. Just a warning, Knives is just as racist as you and your buddies are, but he's a lot more proactive in showing his feelings. It might be a good idea to not provoke him."

"I'm not afraid of any of you."

"That's not smart," she pointed out as they wended their way out of the lab. "I'm not entirely comfortable around him, myself. He's a bit better than he used to be, though. You could probably engage in a few smart assed remarks and he wouldn't kill you out of hand, but if I were you, I wouldn't press your luck."

"I can handle him."

"Like you handled me four years ago? Did that limp teach you nothing?" 

He glared. 

"I'm not saying that you aren't competent. I'm just saying that you have no training fighting someone as fast as him, and if you push at him the way you've been pushing at me today, he will probably smack you down a little."

"Let him start something. It will just prove how intrinsically violent you freaks are."

She sighed. "You do realize the irony of that statement."

He flushed. "It's true, though. What's your, all of you, what is your first reaction to a problem?"

"Ok." She paused in the hallway. "I freely admit that I have problems," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "And I admit that the boys have their own neurosis's. But we aren't anymore violent than our upbringings have left us."

"Oh, that's a great excuse. A bad childhood explains away all the murders, all the death, the destruction, the fact that we are all stuck on this dustbowl of a planet until we finally die off? It's ok because someone teased you while you were young?"

She threw up her arms in defeat. "Believe what you want," she said, walking down the corridor again. "Who am I to try to prove you wrong?" she muttered. 

Wryly, she reflected that the reason the position as mediator between the plants and the plant haters was still open was because their hadn't been an optimist stupid enough to take up the role. Until her.

Which was an ironic thought, in and of itself.


	70. Meet the plants

Wait? Could it be?

********************************************************************************

Anne paused on the last landing before her apartment. She turned to Mark and smiled slightly. "I'm not going to tell you to play nice. You're a big boy, old enough to take care of yourself and smart enough to stay out of most kinds of trouble."

"That's sweet," he interrupted, the sarcasm dripping from his lips.

Her smile quirked a little, but she continued undaunted. "I just thought it might be prudent to point out that you are going to enter into a not-very-large apartment filled with killers." She stopped smiling and looked at him very seriously. "So mind your manners. I know that Knives has impulse control problems, and Ace may as well. You've been pushing at me all day. Don't push at them."

He glared at her. "What part of that wasn't telling me to play nice?" 

"Just the parts where I want to keep you alive."

"I thought you said that plants weren't dangerous. Isn't that what you're trying to prove?"

"Let's just say I don't want you to end up proving me wrong." She started up the last of the stairs and paused at her front door. She pushed gently at it, but someone had fixed the latch and it didn't open. Feeling slightly foolish, she knocked tentatively at her door.

Vash opened it. His eyes lit up as he saw her in the hallway. "We thought you were kidnapped again," he exclaimed, sweeping her into a hug and into the living room. 

"No, just working," she said, voice muffled by his arm. "There's this concept where you spend a certain amount of time at a place performing a service, and in return you get money so you can support a houseful of wastrel relatives." She fought her way out of the hug and looked around the room, smiling. "Hey guys," she grinned. "What brings you all to December?"

"You," said Ace flatly from her perch on the couch. She was curled up in the right corner, legs tucked beneath her, one elbow resting on the sofa arm, her chin propped on one fist. Her stare held nothing friendly, and Anne felt her smile trying to slip. Ignoring the cold shoulder, she turned and looked at Meryl. She had just come out of the kitchen and was wiping her hands on a towel. 

"You seem to be making a habit of saving my life," she said mildly, looking intently into Anne's face before giving her a quick hug. "Thank you for the rescue, and I'm sorry we left you behind."

Anne waved that away. "You didn't leave me; I stayed. I'm not running from this life."

"Like you ran from the last one," she heard Ace mutter under her breath. 

"There's been a bit going on here that I'm sure you're a little curious about."

"Like the fact that you decided to abandon us? We have that figured out, thanks," said Ace.

"I didn't just abandon you. I ran like a chicken and abandoned you," she said deadpan. "And them my life got a bit hectic. Oh!" She turned beck to the door. "Guys, I want you to meet Mark. He'll be staying here, too, for a bit. Play nice," she admonished as she gestured for him to come in. 

He walked in the door, face kept perfectly blank and eyes staring at the far wall. Anne introduced everyone to him, but stopped at the end feeling like she was missing something.

"Alex, get in here. Kiley's here, and she brought a friend," yelled Meryl as she closed the door to the hall. "He's having fun people watching out the kitchen window," she explained as he entered the living room.

"Hello," he said politely, coming over to shake her hand. "I've been told I have you to thank for being born."

Anne flushed a little and looked down. "I didn't do anything."

"You can say that again," Ace muttered. 

"But I'm glad that you're here. Excuse me a moment," she continued gamely before turning to Ace.

"You. Girl."

"Woman."

"Girl. Shut up or learn some manners."

"You have no right to tell me to do anything."

Anne walked over and kneeled by her and looked her in the eye. "Do you have any money?" she asked softly. 

Ace shook her head slightly and narrowed her eyes further. "Why? Is this supposed to be a hotel?"

"No. This is my home. And you are a guest. And as a guest you should at least try to pretend to like me, or I will toss your ass out onto the street."

"So? I'm not here because of you."

"But you are here. And you will behave yourself in my home or you will not be in my home."

"Fine by me. I don't want to be here in the first place."

Anne drew back a bit. "Door's over there. I'm not stopping you from walking out."

"Anne, stop it." Knives spoke up from the other side of the couch. "She's tired."

"She's an ill-mannered brat," Anne said as she looked her in the eyes. "You can hate me all you want, child. But you will be civil or you will leave."

"She's not going anywhere," he said, stepping in again.

"Why? Are you saying that I no longer have the authority to say who can and cannot be in my own home, Knives?" She looked at him. "This isn't like your ship. There isn't a great deal of room for all of us here. We can either be civil and pretend that we aren't acting like a spoiled brat, or we can leave."

"We aren't leaving."

"Then grow up. Both of you, quit sulking."

She sighed and stood, her knees creaking a little as she shifted her weight. "Welcome to my dysfunctional family," she intoned wryly to Mark.

He had the look of a man not entirely certain of what was going on, and Anne couldn't help it. She laughed.


	71. Explaning the absence

Ffnet didn't screw anything up. I took out the whiny read me ch.

********************************************************************************

Meryl tried to come to the rescue. "So, Mark, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm in charge of security logistics at the plant," he said quietly. At some point he had backed up enough to put his back to the wall, and was now lounging against it, arms folded over his chest. He looked mildly uncomfortable, but that could be ascribed to getting to watch someone else's domestic squabble.

"So, that means you do what?"

He shrugged. "I'm in charge of scheduling and looking over the plans for various events and making sure that they won't compromise security."

Ace looked at him, eyes narrowed as recognition dawned. "I know you," she said flatly. "I know you." She stood up and looked at Anne. "He's one of the ones who tried to take me back."

Anne shrugged. 

"Why does it not surprise me that your friend turns out to be one of the enemy." She stalked over to Mark. "Get out. You aren't ever getting me back there," she growled as she poked a finger in his chest. "You and all your cronies can go bugger yourselves."

Anne caught up with her and pulled her back a step. "Excuse me," she said to Mark, who was beginning to look a bit bemused at the short threat. "You. Girl. Go sit back down. This is my house, and Mark is staying."

Ace looked at her, tears threatening to fall as she was marched back to the couch. "Why? Why do you insist that he can stay, and you are so quick to tell me that I can leave?"

"Because Mark is here to watch us and see just how dangerous we really aren't. He doesn't really want to be here, and much as I like him, I don't think I'd be inviting him over right now if I had a choice. He either stays or we get to fight for our lives. Again."

"But why him?" Ace glared at Mark over Anne's shoulder. "Couldn't you have brought someone who hadn't already tried to kill me?" she asked with a slight shudder that Anne didn't believe was as false as the tears had been.

Anne sighed and her voice softened a bit as she explained. "Because I didn't make so many friends that we get much of a choice. At least I know Mark, and know that he's basically a good guy, for a racist bigot. But how many people can I say that about in this room, anyway?" she asked calmly, looking Ace directly in the eyes.

The girl flushed, betrayed by her pale skin. "I'm not a bigot," she protested. 

Anne arched an eyebrow, but left it alone. 

"I'm not!" Ace repeated as Anne stood and turned again. 

"So. Is anyone else curious about the situation we're in at the moment? I've not spent my time in December completely idle."

A chorus of assent from her family urged her along. Anne leaned against the wall by the door to the kitchen, and began.

"Here's the quick synopsis. In the December plant, there is a group of people who believe that plants are evil and need to be killed." She nodded to Mark. "These are the people who held Ace, and took her back at the first opportunity. I assume that they took Meryl to have a hold on you, Vash. They know that you two are married. They didn't know about Alex. They are led by the president of the bulb, happily enough, which means that all key positions in the plant are run by people who want to see us dead."

"Mind you, this is where I've been working the past few years, because aside from a rampant hotbed of racism, this is also one of the last bastions of technology on the planet, and we've been working on developing an alternate source of power. They, because they want to eliminate all plants, and me, because I want to eliminate the dependency on plant power."

"We're getting close to starting a new testing facility, to see if we can collect enough solar power to at least decrease the drain on the plants. Because if we can't, if things keep going as they are, this planet has maybe another fifty years before it collapses and everyone dies. Plant or human."

"So kill the humans," said Knives, bored. 

Everyone turned to look at him and glare. He looked back, unperturbed. "It's a solution."

"Thanks, Knives," said Meryl sarcastically.

"Oh, I didn't mean you," he sighed. "You can live."

"That's your solution," Anne said. "Do you see anyone else clamoring to join you? Hmm. Nope."

She continued with her narrative. "When the SEEDS project was started, it was intended that plants power the ships and provide energy for the first stage of development, after which environmentally friendly generators would be designed and manufactured. Hydrothermal, geothermal, wind, solar… Of course, it was thought back on earth that the ships would land, and would do so on a planet of their choosing. No one suspected sabotage placing the future of humanity on a dustbowl."

Knives smiled.

"To make things more interesting, the ship equipped with the materials needed for generators of any type was one of the ones that exploded before even reaching the atmosphere. So now we're scrambling to adapt old technology to new needs. And since this is a mildly important venture with a time horizon that is quite close, I thought it would be remiss for me to go back and visit you guys for a month or two."

"Trust me. There have been times where all I wanted to do was leave off work and go visiting. Unfortunately, that not very mature behavior, and my secondary goal is the attempt to convince my coworkers that I'm not a monster in need of imminent death."


	72. What is the program?

"So I've been needing to act very mature, even when it goes against my nature. No killings, no running away when things are tough at work, none of my trademarks," she concluded, hands rubbing her upper arms. 

"Frankly, I don't expect you guys to stick around." She sighed, looked at her guests, and then down at her toes. "Now that you're all here, I would just love to take the week off and catch up, but this is the last week before we start actual large scale testing of the new design, and things are super busy. No one is getting time off this week. My boss was surprised that I was allowed to take off Friday Not that I really was away from work, in a matter of speaking… I wonder if I'll get paid for that day," she mused.

"I thought your boss was one of the enemy?" asked Ace.

"Oh, no. The president is, but I was referring to the lady who's in charge of the research lab. She doesn't know that plants come in a non-bulb form." Anne half-smiled. "Really, only about twenty percent of the plant workers have any clue that there are freeborn plants, and maybe seven or eight people in December who don't work at the plant who know. It seems like a lot of people, but it's still less than a hundred. It's just a very well-placed group."

Meryl looked at Mark. "And he's one of them. And he's your friend. Are you high ranked in this group?"

Anne shrugged as Mark smiled tightly. "I used to be. I was one of Mr. Herman's most trusted lieutenants. I headed up a special response unit, trained to deal with threats to the security of our program. Then I failed to recapture her," he motioned towards Ace with his chin, "and while technically I'm still a lieutenant, I'm not one in good standing. Plus, since I was left with a limp I was no longer able to continue in the capacity I had before. When she got away it was a huge blow to our program."

"Which is?" Meryl prompted, her hand seeking Vash's. He grabbed it and squeezed it reassuringly while she grilled Mark.

"Trying to figure out how to keep our plants from throwing out sports like you. While breeding, a plant produces less power, which is not a good thing, and since we have no way of transferring the offspring from one bulb to another while keeping the power generating ability intact, you people are worthless to us."

"We have greater intrinsic value than a mere human spawn," pointed out Knives, eyes slightly narrowed. "Only a fool fails to see that." 

"Don't, Knives," asked Anne. "Let's not get into comparative worth discussions right now."

"But humans are mere vermin, heavily breeding filth. They don't even care about their own offspring; why should I pretend to?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose. "See, this is what I haven't missed about you. You claim to be superior, then feel like all you need to do is act somewhere above the lowest common denominator to support your claims. You want to be superior so badly? Start acting like it."

"I don't need to act. I merely am better in every conceivable way."

"Potential versus actions. Do we need to go over this again?" she asked rhetorically. "I think that you are the only person still convinced of your actual superiority. Potential… no one here is going to argue that you can potentially achieve more than an unaltered human, but you have yet to show any indication of reaching your potential."

Anne hit the back of her head against the wall a few times, then looked over at Vash and Meryl. "I was rather hoping that you guys could have helped fix this complex over here."

"That task is bigger than we can handle," Vash said wryly. "I have tried, but he never listens."

"I listen," Knives protested. "I just don't believe that you know what you're talking about."

"Thank you. That's no much better. It's times like these that I'm incredibly glad that you're not my sibling." Anne sighed again. "I'm hungry," she said abruptly.

"I'm making pasta," offered Meryl. She looked over her shoulder into the kitchen, then started. "And I had better go rescue the sauce before it burns." She left the room, and Alex followed her, ostensibly to help, but more likely to stare out the window again. Mark stepped a bit further into the room and stopped, unsure of where he was going. 

Anne felt sorry for him, but didn't know what to say to ease the moment. No one was saying anything, and after a minute Vash went into the kitchen as well. The sound of plates clattering against each other indicated that he was setting the table. He said something to Meryl, but no one in the living room caught it. 

They all stared at each other, at the walls, and at the floor until Meryl announced that it was time to eat.


	73. Dinner

Conversation goodness!

********************************************************************************

Dinner was a very uncomfortable affair. All sat squeezed in around Anne's kitchen table, Anne and Meryl sitting by Mark to keep him from feeling too uncomfortable. No one wanted to ask Anne why she had left so precipitously, not with Mark at the table. Or at least, no one with tact.

"So why did you have to leave before I even got out of the bulb?" asked Ace. "What was so important that you couldn't have stuck around an extra week or two? You didn't know about all this stuff in December, didn't know that the plants needed your help right now and all that. So why leave?"

"I had to," she said simply.

"But why?"

Anne sighed and put her fork down. "I was… I needed to go off somewhere safe and have a nice nervous breakdown. This, all of this, this planet, being a plant, knowing you guys, it was all too much for me. I needed space to sort it out. Space, time, and I wasn't willing to trust that Knives wouldn't try to recruit me for his favorite crusade. And even beyond that, I wasn't willing to trust my ability to say no. I never thought, never believed, that I would be gone this long. I thought I would come to December, figure out how things worked here, try my hand at some research, have a breakdown, and then go back home. Gone a few months at best. And if things held me up here, I figured that you would have gotten the barrier down a few months after I left and, if you cared at all, you would come after me."

"So what stopped you from coming back? Didn't the fact that no one came after you at all clue you in that things weren't right?"

"I guessed that you decided life was simpler without me. You wouldn't be the first people to think so. Life ended up keeping me here, anyway. I had my nice little breakdown; that went as scheduled. But… what I found here, it held me."

"Why December? Why not some other city? Why did you have to come here?"

Anne shrugged and swallowed before replying. "I had been here before, and I'm a city girl. I like being in cities, like the anonymity that being just one of a crowd supplies. I wouldn't get that in a small town. That, or the access to materials that I have here."

"So why not Augusta? It's a good sized city again. You could have gone there."

"December is biggest."

"Bigoted-est."

"Not… exactly. From what I understand, and Mark would know more about this than I would, but I think that the Lost Ship folks are pursuing a similar line of research into the capabilities of plants."

Mark paled a little as the attention at the table shifted to him. He took a quick gulp of his water before trying to speak. "She's right. They say that they just want to neutralize the threat you possess, but here in December we're more of a splinter faction, a little more willing to find a permanent solution. Instead of saying neutralize, we say kill. Mr. Herman actually came from the Lost Ship, was hired as manager because he knew things about the lost technology that we had forgotten. It was back… oh, fifteen years ago, before my time, but he and a few of his friends joined up with a group of fanatics that had been eliminating plant children all over Gunsmoke."

Vash paled. "Lost Ship? They… they're trying to kill us?"

Mark shook his head. "No, not them. Not kill… they'll just put you in a bulb that you can't get out of."

Knives barked out a laugh. "They could try," he said dryly, then grew more serious. "What plant children?"

Mark shot him a puzzled look. "You… didn't think that you and your brother were unique, did you? Twenty-three other plant children have been gestated since the Great Fall. Twenty-two have died. Most of these were at the hands of the Brotherhood of the Engineers, a group of men based out of the December plant who were sent out to service plants that didn't have engineers of their own. When they found a pregnant plant, or heard about troubles in power supply that were indicative of pregnancy, they would dispatch one of their own to take care of the problem."

"But… why?" asked Meryl. "Why kill them?"

"The Brotherhood, as one might assume about any group that calls itself a brotherhood, was fully of slightly crazy people. They thought that the plants were harnessing demonic energy from between the astral planes, and that plant children were demons sent from hell to destroy the world." 

"Do you believe that?" asked Alex.

"No. Like I said, they were before my time. No, Mr. Herman got into contact with them when he first came to the plant, and he sort of morphed their organization into what we have now."

"What do you believe?" inquired Alex politely.

"Honestly?" He looked about the table, at all the blonde heads and intent gazes. "I would rather not say," he continued uneasily. The gazes grew a little more pointed, and Anne cleared her throat. 

Mark sighed. "I don't trust you people with the power you have. The humanoid typhoon and his crazy brother intent on wiping out humanity? Do you honestly feel that I should think having more of you people running about is a good idea? Two cities were destroyed, completely annihilated while you two squabbled. All those lives lost, families destroyed, and for what?"

"You act all affronted that I don't like you, but why should I? Anne says that you aren't evil. Fine. Even assuming she's right, you don't seem to care about the impact that you have on the lives of others, and I fail to see why you should be allowed to carry out all your whims when people suffer at your hands."


	74. Conversation

Vash sighed and looked down at his plate. "I can understand why you would think that," he said softly, "but it's not true. There are just sometimes circumstances beyond your control."

"Like unending waves of bounty hunters," pointed out Meryl. "Trust me, I know for a fact that Vash didn't cause most of the damage in his wake. Back at Bernadelli I even have the reports to prove it." She shot a dark look at her husband. "That's the problem with giving fair and accurate reports. Some people benefit."

He looked at her with a hurt expression on his face. "I never interfered with how you wrote your reports, fair or not." Then he winked. "Not like I cared; Bernadelli would never carry me as a client."

"They aren't stupid, unlike one pointy haired moron I had to trail around after."

He grinned and she smiled back.

Ace made gagging sounds from the end of the table. "Old people trying to be cute again," she whispered sotto voice to Alex. He smiled and nodded assent as the two broke off gazing into each other's eyes. A faint blush crept across Meryl's cheeks, and she picked up her fork and started to eat again, not meeting anyone's eye.

Knives silently finished eating and stood up. Vash, Meryl, Ace and Alex ignored him as he rinsed his plate and left for the living room. Anne and Mark followed their lead, but Anne couldn't suppress the inquisitive eyebrow.

"He's still not much for company," Vash mouthed. 

Anne nodded and finished the last few bites on her plate. "I'll be back for thirds if there's any left," she said as she rose and left her plate on the table.

"Are you ok?" she asked softly as she walked into the living room. Knives was sitting on the couch again, arms crossed on his chest, eyes staring blankly at the far wall. He looked up at her as she entered, then back at the wall.

"I'm fine," he said shortly.

She sat down next to him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"You seem… tense."

"I'm fine."

Anne stopped pushing, and instead sat a little more comfortably next to him. She mirrored his pose and stared at the far wall. They sat and listened to the subdued attempt at conversation in the kitchen for a few minutes, then Knives spoke.

"Is he really going to be staying here, too?"

"Yes."

They fell silent again.

"Did you miss me?" she asked softly.

He didn't respond. After another minute she stood and went back into the kitchen. She smiled at the inquisitive looks shot her way as she dished up more pasta. "He's still sulking," she said softly. 

"So, Alex, what are your hobbies?" she asked before placing a bite in her mouth.

He looked a bit surprised to be addressed. "Nothing much, really. Reading. Trying to figure stuff out. Macramé. Pickling vegetables. And paper airplanes, for the most part."

Anne swallowed. "Pickling vegetables?"

He shrugged. "It's fun. Not as much work as actually growing things, but with an equally edible result at the end. Most of the time."

Vash stifled a laugh.

"What?" she asked as Alex blushed.

"Oh, he just tried to pickle strawberries once. He learned why you don't pickle fruits."

Anne laughed. "To some people, that's obvious."

"It was an experiment," he protested, his blush spreading farther down his face.

Ace chuckled as she stood and put her plate in the sink. "Thanks for dinner, Meryl," she said as she left for the living room. She said something to Knives, and he replied, but both spoke too softly to be overheard.

Anne sighed and idly imagined running away again. Then her eyes opened wide and she sat up straight in her chair as she remembered something. "Oh, crap!" she said as she quickly stood and cleared her plate. "I'm late for practice!"

Mark snickered. "You're always late for practice."

"But we have a date on Wednesday. I have to go!" 

She ran into the bedroom, barely noticing Ace and Knives on the couch.

"A… date?" asked Meryl of a still-chuckling Mark.

"She's in a band."

"Really? What type?"

"Blues. She sings and plays bass."

"Really! And they have a concert in a couple days?"

"It's stretching things to call it a concert. They are just getting to play at a bar downtown. They really aren't anything spectacular."

"But that's so exciting. I mean, playing in a band… I would never have thought that she would do something like that."

He shrugged as she ran back in the room.

"Hey guys, sorry I've got to run, but I'll be back in a couple hours. Make yourselves comfortable, Mark come on, let's go!" she said as she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the kitchen.

"But.. I'm not done eating," he protested.

"Tough. Bye guys," she said with an aborted wave to Ace and Knives. "Oh, wait. I need a key."

Ace pulled one out of her pocket, and Anne snatched it off her hand. "Thanks. See you!"

And then she was gone.


	75. Walking

No Knives.

*******************************************************************************

The early evening air had begun to chill. Anne shoved her hands in her pockets and tried to ignore how the tip of her nose was getting cold. She sniffed a little as she walked, enjoying the feel of the cool air in her nostrils. The sound of her feet slapping against the paved streets seemed loud to her, but that just might be because she was straining to hear Mark. He wasn't walking next to her, but a few paces behind. 

Like he was ashamed to be seen with her or something. She watched her feet as she walked so she wouldn't turn around and stare at him. Her shoulders hunched over a bit as she thrust her hands further in her pockets. 

Fine. He hated her that much. There was hardly anything she could do about how he felt. Well, there was, but that sort of thing was entirely unethical. She wasn't even going to be tempted, not any more than a very little tiny bit.

She shot a glance his way as she turned a corner, trying to gauge what he was thinking. Infuriatingly, his face was carefully blank. She felt that was entirely unfair. If she was going to be noble and not read his emotions, the least he could do would be show her something, give her something to stew over. This stewing over nothing was getting old.

Reluctantly, she slowed her pace until he caught up. Shifting her shoulders back, she looked up at Mark and sighed. "So, what do you think about my family?"

"They… are not what I expected. Vash, especially," he said quietly.

"Yeah… he's really just a big goofball. Big heart, avoids responsibility at every opportunity. Not what you expect of a hunted killer."

"And Ace is a brat."

Anne sighed. "She seems to be. I get the feeling that she and Knives grew close after I left, which isn't too surprising. I mean, Vash and Meryl were busy having a baby, and then having the baby, and she knows Knives. So I guess they would get closer, but he sure is a bad influence."

"Yes. Millions Knives. He's much more what I was expecting."

She smiled wryly. "Cold, heartless bastard?"

He shrugged, then nodded. 

She sighed. "He's better than he was. A few years ago he'd have just gone hiding in the bedroom as soon as you entered my place, and wouldn't have come out until you were gone. He'd say it was so he wouldn't be sullied by your presence, but it's more he's just very uncomfortable around people. Undersocialized, really. Well, that and he's a bit of a racist, too. One accentuates the other."

"Still, he's not a friendly man."

"No, that he's not."

"But you still like him."

"He's family," she said easily.

"That's not what I was saying."

She looked at him with innocent eyes.

"Don't give me that. It's kind of funny," he mused. "You get this almost glow around you when you're near him."

"Oh, I do not," she said, looking at her feet again.

"You do too. It's obvious, the way your eyes light up when you see him. And the hurt that crept in them when you came back from trying to talk to him at dinner."

"I wasn't hurt. He was just being him."

"Don't lie. You were trying very hard to eavesdrop on what he and Ace were talking about, weren't you?"

She flushed, but stayed silent. 

"I guess I can understand it. I mean, who wouldn't want someone of their own species. Vash was taken, and this is the first time you've met Alex, wasn't it? I guess Knives was really your only choice."

"That's not it! He's not an entirely bad person!"

"Isn't he?" Mark arched an eyebrow. "Genocide is really just a phase that he's going to grow out of, is that it?"

"I hope so," she muttered. "I'd hate to have to kill him."

He snorted.

She looked at him again. "What?"

"Oh, like you would."

"If my choices are letting him kill hundreds or thousands more innocent people, or killing him myself, you can be damn sure that I'm not going to stand aside and let him. I might like him, but there are limits." And I would hate myself forever after I did it, she thought, but did not say.

He shook his head. "I don't believe you. You say that you're a reformed killer. Don't you think that everyone can see sweetness and light, given the time?"

"Well… yes, but what's the price of the time? If more people die before he changes his mind, the price is too high to pay. I'd not blame anyone who called for my death when I was still killing. They had every right. It was after I changed that it began to irk me. I was given the time, but the cost was too high. Much better for me to have died early on, then to have been given that time to change." She shrugged, then took her hands out of her pockets so she could cross her arms. "And if he goes back to his old ways, I'm going to get to be the hand that holds the knife. Vash won't, Ace won't, I don't think Alex could. It's just me who has any chance of taking him down."

"And you would do that?"

"In a heartbeat. Knives… he's not socialized, he's not tame. And if he stops playing nice with others, pretty words aren't going to make him stop. He's heard them all, and I don't think that they mean much to him. The only things he cares about are his brother, Ace, and maybe Alex and me. Other than that, and if he decides that our company is not enough… I know he is dangerous now. If that happens…" Her voice trailed off. "I hope that doesn't happen," she finished softly.


	76. Sleeping arrangements

Look! A Knives cameo!

********************************************************************************

Band practice went well, the play list for later in the week firmed up and worked on. The band broke apart at a little after eleven, the pianist having a job that got her up early. The drummer and her both cautioned Anne to arrive to the paying gig on time on Wednesday, the drummer accompanying his caution with a smile, the pianist with a frown, then they waved and left. Anne wrapped up well in her jacket after loosening the strings on her bass and putting it back in it's case. She pulled her scarf out of it's pocket and wound it around her neck with a sigh. Her voice hurt a bit, felt scratchy, and she wished that she had time to stop off and get a cup of hot chocolate before heading home. The thought was tempting, but she didn't want to take the time. Mornings came early for her, too.

"Home again, home again, jiggery jig," she said with a smile as Mark climbed off the stack of chairs he had appropriated while they practiced. 

"You don't sound too happy about that," he noted.

She shrugged. "Small place for so many people."

"And you don't do well around people."

"That too. I mean, I haven't seen them for years, and now I get to see a whole lot of them. I'm not sad that they're here, but I'm not quite prepared for the visit." She sighed again as they left the building. The shock of the cold night air was bracing and helped keep her from brooding during the walk. She tried to just exist in the moment, enjoy the night, the moons, what stars she could see, but worry kept trying to intrude. How was she going to feed them all? What were they going to do tomorrow? Could she take any extra time off work? Maybe be on call if problems came up, but not actually be in her office? No, that wouldn't work. When they needed her, they needed her immediately. The time it took her to get in to work would be too much.

Drat. She was worrying. 

She took a few deep breaths and tried to center herself, to let her mind exist only in the moment. It didn't work as well as she would have liked, but she managed to keep from obsessing over trivial details as she wended her way home. It was just the big things that bothered her, like what was up with Knives, if her friends and coworkers were going to try to kill her again tomorrow. The big things helped crowd out the little worries, and abruptly she wanted the little worries back.

Her apartment was very quiet as she opened the door. The lights were off in the living room, and only the light over the oven was left on in the kitchen. The quiet whirr of the refrigerator seemed very loud, and Anne couldn't suppress the smile that crept over her face.

"What?" mouthed Mark.

"It feels full. Even though it's quiet, it feels full. Like a home."

He rolled his eyes as she crept over to the closed bedroom door. Opening it quietly, she looked in on the occupants of her bed. Alex was curled up on the left side, Meryl at his back and nestled in Vash's arms. Knives rested against his brother's back, and Ace slept curled next to him, a pillow tucked between her knees. The five of them filled her bed completely, like puppies in a litter, and her grin spread even wider at the picture they posed. If they were any sweeter looking, she'd get cavities. 

She quietly entered the bathroom and prepared for sleep, then exited to the living room and sat down near the wall. With a sigh she stretched out and rested her head on one arm.

"What are you doing?" hissed Mark from the couch.

She lifted her head and looked at him. "Getting read y to sleep."

"On the floor?"

"The bed is full."

"But it's your bed!"

"They're the guests."

"In your bed!"

"I'm ok with the floor, really. It's not too hard."

"Compared to that bed it is."

"Compared to some beds I've had, it's rather comfy. Warm, here, at least," she said as she adjusted her jacket.

"You are not sleeping on the floor. You get the couch."

She shook her head. "You're a guest, too. I'm fine, Mark. Don't worry." He started to get off the couch. "Stop it. I told you I'm fine."

"I'm not going to sleep up there. You can sleep on the couch or on the floor, but I'm not sleeping comfortably while you're down here."

"But I'm comfortable down here."

"So am I."

"But you just said that you weren't going to sleep comfortably if you weren't on the couch."

"I did not."

"Sleep on the couch, Mark. I'm fine here."

"I'm fine here, too."

She sighed and stayed where she was.

He lay silently for a few minutes, then began to toss and turn a little.

"Get on the couch, Mark," she hissed.

"I'm fine if you're fine," he muttered.

"I'm not saying this to be gallant. You're keeping me awake."

He mumbled something that she pretended not to catch, then got up and sat on the couch. "At least take a cushion for a pillow," he pleaded.

She laughed quietly. "Will that make you feel better?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

"Fine. Throw me a pillow." 

It hit her in the face.


	77. Early morning talk

Look who's here!

*******************************************************************************

She woke after a harsh nudge in the side. Prying open her eyes took a great deal of willpower, and after the effort she wasn't sure that it had been worth it. The problem was that the world was still very dark. It was not supposed to be dark when she woke up; it wasn't even supposed to be dawn. Golden sunshine was supposed to greet her, not the dim light from the oven light. But here it was, still dark and she was forced awake, and even forced to sit up to stop that toe from digging under her ribs. Damn obnoxious houseguests and their inability to recognize rational sleeping times.

"What?" she asked fuzzily as she rearranged her jacket. "'S early. Go 'way."

"I thought you didn't need much sleep," came the bemused voice from above.

"Need some. What do you want?" she asked, her voice becoming clearer the more she used it.

"Did you have a nice evening last night? You came in rather late. We had all had a very full day and decided to not wait up for you." His tone was bored, but there was an edge to it she would have had to have been deaf to miss. Someone wasn't happy that she had ducked out last night.

"That's fine." He could stay not happy. Serves him right for waking her so early.

"We thought that there would be enough room for you to join us on your bed, but I guess you felt that it would be better to sleep out here. On the floor. With your… human."

Anne sighed. "He's not a possession, Knives. He's a friend."

"A good friend."

"Good enough to want to kill me. But then, who doesn't?" she asked rhetorically. 

"I don't think that you've managed to piss Alex off yet."

"I've only known him a few hours. Give me a day, I'm sure I can do something." She paused a second as she tried to gather her wits. "Is there any great reason you had to wake me up at such a god awful hour?"

"If you get to work early, you can leave early. Then we will have more time with you."

"You'll have more time with a sleep deprived bitch, you mean."

He didn't say anything, but she got the feeling that he shrugged. "We'll take what we can get. Funny how what we get seems to be whatever is left over after you do all the more important things."

"Like what? My job?"

"What's with that crazy band excuse?"

"It's not an excuse," she said huffily. "I sing. And I play the bass now, too, since our last player got pregnant and didn't have time to play anymore."

"You sing terribly, if I recall correctly."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I never said I was good. If it was a normal practice I would have blown it off. But we have a real gig tomorrow. That pays, even! You have no idea what that means."

"That you'll be dashing off after work tomorrow and we won't get to see you then, either?"

She sighed. "What's your problem? You were ignoring me last night, anyway. It's not like you care if I'm here or not."

"I want you where I can see you."

"Lots of people do," she mumbled. "Why? Trying to figure out what to do with me?"

"Yes."

She snorted. "You don't get to do anything with me. I thought I had made this clear: You do not control me. You have no hold on me. I am not your toy, or your pet, or your rival, or whatever you want me to be in that strange blonde head of yours. I get to do what I want, and you get to figure out how that fits into your life."

"No."

"What?"

"You don't get to just do whatever you want."

"Why not?"

"Because you have a responsibility to us."

"Excuse me?" she laughed as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to get rid of that bed hair feeling. "How do you figure that?"

"You don't get to just show up one day, change our lives, and then take yourself out of the picture. That's not fair."

"Who cares about fair, plant-boy? I can leave, and you can live with it."

"No."

"You can't stop me."

"I can't stop you from moving, but I can stop you from leaving."

"How?… no. You are not going to follow me."

"If I have to."

"No." She rested her head in her hands as silence stretched between them. "I didn't mean to be gone for so long," she mumbled.

He said nothing.

"I missed you guys."

"There were times that we wished you were around," he allowed.

"Like when?"

He thought for a moment. "Like when Alex was born. They made me help with the delivery. I cannot think of a more disgusting thing I have ever done."

"So I should have done it?"

"Well… you are a female, too."

"And that makes it all better?" She shuddered. "The thought of pregnancy nauseates me."

"You don't want children?"

"Knives, in what way do you think I would make a good mother? I had my chance, and I ran. Do you think it would be fair, or just selfish of me to try again?"

"I thought all women wanted children."

"Anytime I ever feel that urge, I can just remember that I have you around. And I hear that real kids are even worse." She faked a shudder and was rewarded by hearing his little snot of annoyance. 

She had missed that.


	78. Coffee break

Feeling less sick!! Yay!!

********************************************************************************

Getting back to sleep was out of the question, and after a few minutes of trying, Anne even admitted this. So instead of the last few sweet minutes of sleep, she got up and stumbled into the kitchen. Sitting on the counter, she waited for her legs to finish waking up and for the coffee to finish brewing. It wasn't much of a race, since the coffee nearly always won. Mostly, Anne just let the coffee cool a bit before she tried even pouring it to drink it, but today she idly wondered if she would even get some of the first batch. She knew that fresh coffee was an expected treat for many of her houseguests, and since they hadn't shown much inclination to share her house yet, she was willing to assume that she would get the dregs of the coffee as well. The scent drew in her houseguests like she had assumed as it wafted through the apartment. 

The first to join her was Mark. He stumbled in yawning and rubbing at the stubble on his chin and mumbled something inarticulate as he fell into a chair. His head slumped nearly to his chest, but he caught himself before indulging in a nap. Anne nearly laughed at the picture he posed, and was pleased to see that he woke up about as easily as she did. With a yawn, he leaned back and stretched. She could hear his shoulders pop as he rotated them, and she couldn't suppress a smile as he nearly overbalanced in the chair. The shock and the wild flailing about woke him up the rest of the way, and suppressing the laughter that bubbled inside did a good job of waking her up as well.. His ears were still faintly pink when he stood to get his coffee, but Anne politely continued to refrain from laughing at him. She did, however, indulge in a wink that raised the color in his cheeks again.

Watching his antics had given her enough time to wake up, herself, so she slid off the counter and waited for him to finish with the carafe before pouring herself a cup. Inside, she indulged in the selfish pleasure that she was actually getting some of the first batch.

The next to come into the room was an entirely too perky looking Alex. He graced the two of them with a wide smile as he got a mug out of the cupboard. 

"Why are you drinking coffee?" asked Anne. "You look too awake as it is," she continued, not quite able to keep all of the grumpiness out of her voice. She couldn't help it; morning people annoyed the heck out of her.

"It's for mom. She is much more pleasant if she gets her morning caffeine before she is asked to move." He gave them a little wave as he left, his step much too bouncy for the near dawn hour.

Mark leaned over and mock-whispered to Anne, "Are there more where he came from? And can I have one?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure how he came from where he came from. Meryl must be a great mother."

"Why," asked Vash rhetorically as he entered the kitchen, "when the boy is good everyone assumes that it is Meryl, and when he misbehaves, it's my fault?" He poured the last cup of coffee in a mug and refilled the percolator. "Could it possibly be that I was a good example of the way you treat a lady?"

"Hmm," mused Anne. "No."

Vash sighed and took up position on the other side of Anne. He blew gently on his coffee before he began sipping at it, but seemed content to stay silent. A hush fell over the kitchen as each person thought privately. Dawn, coffee, and quiet companionship were enough for the moment.

Then Ace came in and heaved a huge sigh as she saw that there wasn't any coffee ready. The silence was broken, not to be regained for the day, and three slightly annoyed pairs of eyes turned her way.

She was oblivious, her attention focused on the problem before her. "Weren't you expecting guests?" she asked as she watched the drips fall down. "You need a bigger coffeemaker."

Anne finished off her cup and rinsed it out. Mentally she counted to ten, then ten again before speaking. The girl didn't know that she was doing anything annoying, and it would be pointless to take out her frustrations on her. Instead, she turned and looked Ace in the eye as she walked the few steps to the counter. Setting it on the counter by the percolator, she smiled at Ace. "I only have four mugs," she said simply before walking into the bedroom.

Ace sighed dramatically and took up her vacated position between Vash and Mark.

"Morning, boys," she said sweetly, bestowing a beatific smile on Mark. "I love the early hours, don't you? So quiet and peaceful." She sighed loudly and sipped at her mug.

Mark didn't reply. He finished up the last of his coffee in silence, then rinsed it out and set it by the coffeemaker for the next needy soul before leaving the kitchen.

"Humans," she said with a snort to Vash after watching him depart. 

"I don't think he likes the way that you've been treating Anne," he said softly.

"Oh, what does he care about her," she said airily, setting the barely touched mug next to her on the counter. "He just wants to kill her. I can see it in his eyes."

"That's not what I see there," he said as he sat down at the table.

"What do you see?"

He shrugged. "He likes her."

"No way. He wants to kill her. He's the one who stabbed her leg; he hates her."

"He wants to hate her, but I don't think he's succeeding."


	79. Getting to work

Miss Ericks sent me a get well card! *tears well up* Awwwwwwwwww….. Domo arigato gozimasu!

*******************************************************************************

The rest of the morning went fairly well, or at least it did after Anne managed to get Knives out of the bathroom. She and Mark went their separate ways upon entering the plant, he to catch up on some paperwork, and she, off to be available in a crisis. Walking into the lab, Anne went after her second cup of coffee before entering her office and settling down to look productive.

Or trying to. One very unconscious Effie was sprawled over her desk, one of the pages from near the end of her file flickering above her head and adding oddly colored highlights to her hair. Anne set her coffee down on the edge of the desk with a quiet thunk, then reached down into a drawer and pulled out the blanket she kept for when she pulled all-nighters. Gently, she pulled it over her shoulders and smiled down at the sleeping woman. 

She felt a little guilty. She had forgotten that Effie had just learned about her file, that she was probably trying to come to terms with what was in it. She sighed as she picked up her cup and sipped at the hot liquid. It wasn't as if her night hadn't been busy, but she should have been able to spare a thought or two.

But she hadn't. What a horrible friend she was, she thought with a wry smile as she left her office and found a seat nearby. It was probably for the best, though, since living in a house full of mind readers who would love to find out about her… She sighed again. Poor Effie. As soon as Knives got wind about what family she came from, he was going to have kittens, or maybe even full grown cats. She could just picture his face now as he tried to figure out how she could be useful. Of course, Effie was no Legato. She wasn't going to sit around and wait fro direction from on high, from the lips of her god like he had. Likely, she would argue every decision, every thought process, every little thing that Knives wanted her to do. 

No, Effie was not a tool of any sort. But it would probably take Knives a bit of time to see that, thanks to Legato. Anne sighed as she pondered just how bad a situation that had been. One megalomaniac's delusions of godhood reinforced by the most mentally powerful human on the planet. The true wonder, the more she thought about the situation, was that Vash had still managed to overcome the two of them.

She wasn't sure that he would be able to now. Vash, sadly, was seriously crippled by the loss of his arm. The arms held the power generators; it was why Legato had been able to accomplish so much while just a human. While the boys were flailing about with Angel Arms and the like, the power difference between him and his brother was minimal. But now that the techniques were becoming more refined, the power disparity was going to show up. 

She pondered what it would take to get Vash to let her work on his arm, grow it back some more. If things did devolve into a war again, if Knives did decide to take up his old role as exterminator, she could use the help. He knew his brother better than she did, would be better able to predict his moves and actions, but even more important than knowing the enemy would be the ability to take him down fast and hard, before he had a chance to hurt too many people.

She shook her head to try to chase the gloomy thoughts away. With luck, the genealogy of her friend would never come into question, so the whole problem was moot. And it wasn't like she would blindly follow Knives, not with her already stated displeasure with the entire plant breed. 

Noticing that her cup was empty, she got up for another dose of caffeine. While at the break table, she was cornered by her boss.

"Why aren't you working?" she asked with a touch of asperity. "You're finally at work on time; I would hope that you would actually be utilizing these hours we're paying you to be here. I mean, after you left for a couple hours yesterday morning, then early for the evening, I guess I just wished to see you doing something worthwhile."

"Sorry, ma'am," Anne said with a slight smile, "but my office is rather occupied at the moment. Is there anything I need to do? Any fires to put out?"

Her boss shook her head a little. "No. You're lucky; everything seems to be coming together smoothly, amazingly enough."

"Then don't worry. I have a couple things going on right now, what with family visiting from out of town, and that whole conversation with Mr. Herman yesterday, but rest assured that I'm still very committed to the outcome of this project, and shall work to my utmost when the situation calls for it."

"But you don't feel that this is one of those times," she said sourly. "I know that I've been instructed to give you a long leash on this one; be careful you don't hang yourself in the slack," she said before turning and walking away.

Anne looked after her, slightly bemused. Given some slack, huh? Not that she couldn't use it, but she wondered why it was given to her. Upon further reflection, she decided that they were hoping that she would hang herself, and save them the trouble of trying to find a reason to do it for them. 

She wandered back to her office and gently closed the door. Sitting behind it so no one could enter, she watched Effie sleep and thought of ways to get out of this mess.

Or at least she tried to. Sadly, ways out seemed to be lost in the tangle of problems that faced her.


	80. Feral

*yawn*

********************************************************************************

It was relatively comical to watch Effie wake up. First, the regular breathing ceased with a soft snort. Then one eye was laboriously pried open, then the other joined it in seeing the light with a nearly audible snap. She sat up quickly and murmured something unintelligible, then grabbed at the blanket as it slipped from her shoulders. The other hand wiped at the dried drool on her lips as her mind raced as quickly as it could towards a conclusion. It only took about a minute

"Morning sunshine," Anne said cheerily, as she had finally imbibed enough caffeine to be chipper.

Effie started at her, then looked at the still flashing display, then back at Anne. "Sanamanin," she said. "Turly."

Anne snorted. "Do you need some coffee?" she offered rhetorically as she stood. 

"Mm, mm," was her response.

When Anne came back with a couple cups, Effie looked a bit more awake. Her eyes were still a little bleary, as befit someone who had pulled an all-nighter, and her words of gratitude were slightly slurred as she took the offered drink. After downing the first cup swiftly, she nursed the second one while she waited for the caffeine to take effect.

"Sorry about taking over your desk," she said quietly while staring at that last page.

"No problem. I wasn't using it last night. How are you doing?"

"I'm… confused. This file doesn't make much sense. I mean, just look at the gene comparisons. It says I'm not even a noticeable deviation from the human norm."

"No, you're not. You are as human as they come."

"But you said that I'm a freak."

"No, I think I said that you have access to the same sort of mental tricks that I do. That doesn't make you inhuman."

"You are."

"Not really. I'm a modified human, an organism based off the human model for a specific purpose. It was really much easier for the gene splicers back on earth to work off an already developed organism than it would have been for them to create a new one from scratch, and given all that they hoped to accomplish with the plants they were hardly going to work of an animal template. So, intelligently enough, they made plants from a human base. Some of the traits they grafted on, like the mental powers, were nothing that a few centuries of selective breeding could have developed. The only real development, genewise, was this," she said, pointing to her upper arm. "No amount of selective breeding was going to make a basic human into a power plant."

"But you're a freak. All plants are supposed to be in bulbs. You're defying what you were created for."

"Plants were designed to live in the bulbs, but we can live outside of them as well if taken from them early enough. You could take a plant that had powered one on the SEEDS ships out of her bulb, and she would be able to survive. Well, assuming she could survive the shock of the real world. What she couldn't so is adjust to the way life is outside the bulb to the point where she would be a happy productive citizen, because the bulbs, while a perfect environment for power generation, are absolutely crappy when it comes to helping the plants develop the traits that separate human beings from the animals. Plants possess only a limited degree of communication, great minds crippled by the lack of words to express thoughts. They are like feral children."

"Feral? Like animals that go about attacking?"

"Not rabid, feral. They don't think like normal people do because they weren't taught like regular children. Stories like Tarzan and The Jungle Book, where the heroes live among animals before being forced to deal handily with the human world are pure fiction. If not given the ability to develop human relationships, a child will not be able to develop beyond a certain point. It has nothing to do with intelligence, and everything to do with socialization. The bulbs isolate."

"So all the plants are feral?"

"Pretty much. Sweet girls, for the most part, but not all there, not like you and me. It's not a genetic trait, it is social."

"Huh."

"Pretty deep for before the third cup of coffee, huh?"

Effie shrugged. "It's just… not what I thought was the case. I thought plants were designed to be more like animals, not had it… forced on them."

"Don't think of it as force," Anne cautioned. "They all like being who they are. They look at regular humans and understand enough to feel superior. They are unageing, their needs taken care of in a near paradise. They may not understand the concepts of love and hate, but they understand enough to enjoy being what they are."

"I wouldn't enjoy that."

"Me either. That's why I am so glad that I've never been in a bulb." Anne didn't bother suppressing the shudder that the thought garnered. "No socialization problems here."

Effie snorted. "Yeah. You're the very picture of well-adjusted."

"Compared to them I am," she shot back, then sighed. "So I'm a little on the shy side. Maybe a bit quiet. And slightly odd. Lots of people are."

"You know that people worry more about the quiet, loner types then they do gregarious social butterflies, right? Well, watching you, our colleagues fear for their lives. They keep shoving Mark and I at you to keep you from getting even quieter and more crazy."

"They do not!"

"Uh-huh, and they pay us, too. Like insurance."

"Now you're being silly."

The conversation degenerated from there, but both left it laughing.


	81. Catty

And *poof* stuff happens.

********************************************************************************

Anne left work and went home for lunch. She debated finding Mark and inviting him along, but decided that she really wanted a little time where it was just her and her family. There were a couple things that she wanted to ask that she didn't feel comfortable asking in front of someone who wasn't family, no matter how good a friend he was. But the way things turned out, she didn't have to ask after all.

As she entered her apartment, she noticed that Ace was very cozily snuggled up on Knives' lap. And that Knives was playing with her hair. And that when the two of them saw her, Knives flushed slightly, but Ace only curled closer to him.

Oh.

Anne smiled at them while her mind raced so quickly that it seemed blank. Without breaking stride she walked into the kitchen and opened the door to the refrigerator. 

Then she closed it.

Then she opened it again.

And after a moment, closed it.

She turned and saw that her actions had made even Vash pause in eating, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. 

"Eh, hi guys," she said with a sheepish smile. Her eyes met Meryl's, and she mouthed, "Are they a couple?"

Meryl nodded slowly. Yes.

"Ahhhh," she exhaled. "I see." She found herself sitting in front of the refrigerator. "Really?" she asked, not liking the whine that entered her voice but not able to make it go away.

Vash silently stood and left the room. Someone said something in the living room, then the front door opened and closed. At some point Meryl came over and settled down by her. One hand settled on her shoulder.

"Knives and Ace have been together for a little over a year now."

"Oh."

"They seem to be happy together." The hand began to massage her back.

"Oh."

"We are happy together," said Ace frostily from the doorway. 

Meryl stopped trying to comfort Anne. "I'll let you two sort things out," she said as she exited for the bedroom.

"Thanks, Meryl," said Ace as she passed. "It's good for us to get this in the open now. No more misunderstandings." She smiled a little while she waited for Meryl to enter the bedroom, then dropped the façade when she knew they were alone.

"He's mine," she said shortly.

"Oh."

Ace came and squatted down in front of Anne. "He's mine, and what a nice man he is. Good in bed, good outside of it, easy to manipulate. Your leaving devastated him, you know. You made it so easy for me to take him from you."

Anne's eyes opened wide and she stared at Ace. "You… what?"

"You heard me. I took him. He was yours, heart, body, mind, all of it. But you left. You left us both, and you made it so easy for me to make him mine."

"Why?"

"Because I knew it would hurt you most." Rage dripped from each softly uttered syllable. "You left me. You ran away and you never came back. You have no idea what you did, you could never fathom how much pain that caused us, caused me, could you? I waited. I waited and waited but you never came. So I took the only thing you wanted of all you left behind. I took Knives."

"You… took?"

"You made it so easy for me, too. Make him realize that he has a heart, then leave him for whoever comes along? That's a nice set up for me. And not letting anyone know that you're a plant? Double bonus. He's so afraid of humans, of losing you to age and death that he would rather just quit your relationship," she drawled the word, "where you left it, rather than have to watch you grow old and leave him."

"But…"

"Really, I should almost thank you. Knives has been very good to me. Almost like he's trying to make up for the way he treated you. And I love it. He's attentive, and sweet, and pays attention to me and me alone. I have him so wrapped around my finger that he can't even see how much I loathe him."

"You…loathe?"

"Yes. He was tainted by being with you. He no longer thinks that all the humans need to die. But they will. Humans are evil creatures, bound by their mortality to think so shortsightedly that they create problems because they know they won't have to solve them. I liked your idea of germ warfare, by the way. Too bad plants and humans are too genetically similar for that plan to work, but I think I will try something a bit more subtle than Knives' plan of blowing things up, or taking the masses into the desert to starve."

"No."

"Yes," she said solicitously. "All this time you thought that Knives was the danger. And you were wrong. Too bad no one will believe you, even if you try to tell them. I'm just young and flighty to them, hardly older than a teenager. A bit melodramatic, but that's fine, it's part of being young." She sneered.

"You know, maybe when all this is over, I'll let you have Knives again. But if he ever comes back to you, you'll know it's because I let him go. Not because he wanted me more than you, but because I let him go."

"Oh." Anne stood, using the refrigerator as support. "I see. Excuse me." She walked slowly into the living room, trying to ignore the sneer on Ace's face as she picked up her jacket. It was funny to try to force her arms through the sleeves. They were shaking so hard that the task was difficult. Keeping her face averted from Ace, she dung around in the sofa cushions until she found her computer. She slipped it in her pocket, then grabbed her key ring out. Sliding the key to the apartment off, she dropped it on the floor.

"Rent is paid through the end of the month," she said, then walked out the door.


	82. Bastard

Hmm. That last chapter seems to have affected you guys a bit. *Big Evil Author-Lady Grin* That means I'm doing my job right.

*******************************************************************************

Vash had taken Knives out of the room, out of the apartment, and out of the building. Well, if going to the roof counted as leaving the building, then they left. But regardless, they were well out of earshot of any of the events in the apartment. Which was what Vash had in mind, actually. He didn't want any of the ladies to be privy to what was next.

"You're a dick," he said simply as he rested his elbows on the ledge and stared into the street below.

"I know," sighed Knives, mirroring his brother's pose.

"That was a horrible way to let her know what's been going on between you and Ace." Vash pinched the bridge of his nose, and suppressed the urge to pull on his sunglasses. Wrong sort of fight.

"I know," Knives agreed simply.

"You would not believe how shocked she was. She was… lost. She couldn't even stand anymore."

"I know."

"You could have said something before now. I had thought you were going to when I left you two alone to go pick everyone up. But obviously you didn't."

"Obviously."

"Why?"

"You said it. I'm a dick."

"That's not an answer."

Knives sighed, ducking his head so he could run his fingers through his hair as he tried to word an answer. "I didn't want to," he said finally.

"Why not? Because it is so much better to have done it this way?"

"No, not that. I didn't want to say it was over."

"You've been with Ace for almost a year now. I think that would make things over between you two."

"That was before I knew she was a plant. Before I knew…" His voice trailed off and he sighed again.

"Knew what?" prompted Vash. "Knew that she was worthy?" he supplied, his voice twisting the words a little.

"Knew that she wouldn't die on me!" Knives snapped, then colored and refused to meet his brother's eyes.

"Like Meryl will?" Vash said softly.

Knives nodded. 

Vash sighed. "She is getting older, but we have years left before I need to worry about her dying. Besides, if I denied what I felt for her, I would have missed out on the best twenty years of my life, so far. She's my best friend, my lover, and the mother of my child. I could have run away and missed out on all of that, just because I didn't want to lose her. But then I would have just lost her before all the chances I've had to love her. Mortality is a horrible reason to not love someone."

"I can't… I couldn't take it if she died on me. You may be able to bear losing your wife someday, but I couldn't take it if I lost her. It was bad enough, knowing that she was out there, roaming the planet and I couldn't touch her. To not have her beyond even that… I couldn't do it. It was better that I didn't think about her so much. Ace helped me pretend that I didn't want her."

"I thought you were happy with Ace."

"Ace is… comfortable. She's someone I can be content with. Anne, I can be happy with, I can wake up every moment and marvel that she is in my life, and not just in m life but such an integral part of it. Ace, I would miss dearly, but losing her would not kill me. Losing Anne might."

"Then why not tell Ace that you want Anne?"

"Because that isn't fair to Ace. I can't just get Anne back into my life, then turn around and push her away. That's not fair to her; it's like saying that she was just someone to fill the time. And that isn't the truth."

"Then why didn't you tell Anne that you two were through?"

"Because I want her, dammit! I wanted a way to tell Ace that we were through, one that didn't hurt her, and I wanted to find it before Anne ever knew what we had been. Anne herself had said that what we did when we were apart wasn't the other person's business."

"So you were going to dump Ace and not tell Anne what you to had been up to?"

"Yes! …. No. I was going to… I don't know. I don't know what I was going to do. I just wish I had done something different."

"I wish you had, too."

The two plants fell silent, moments passing without comment, both ruminating over the discussion. They watched as Anne left the building and turned to the left. "She isn't going back to work," Vash mused.

"There's her shadow," Knives pointed out as Mark turned the corner and ran off after her. He sighed. "She's not going to be single long," he predicted.

"Mark does like her a lot," Vash confirmed. 

"She says that they're just friends." Knives couldn't keep the note of jealousy out of his voice.

"No real reason to stay that way now, is there? What with you breaking her heart and all." Vash purposefully sounded as cruel as he could. The sight of Anne's face as she crumpled to the floor haunted him, and he felt that justice decreed that his brother share some of the agony.

Knives sneered at Vash, going on the offensive as a way to pretend that the barb hadn't scored.. "What, and you're so wonderful when it comes to women? I seem to recall that Meryl had to track you down more than a couple times before you stopped running."

"Is that what this is, Knives? Are you running from what she meant to you?"

"No."

"Then there's no reason for you to bring that up."

Knives and Vash fell silent again. "I hate him," Knives said after a moment. 

"It's your own fault."

"I hate me, too."


	83. Suspicions

One slightly longer chapter, for your reading pleasure.

*******************************************************************************

Mark was more than slightly irate when he realized that Anne had gone home for lunch without telling him. The cursing began when he slung his jacket off the back of his chair and on his body at a run, and didn't abate as he moved through the halls. He snarled at anyone who had the gall to be between him in the door, and only a fool would have been brave enough to ask him what his problem was.

His pace through the streets was little less than a dead run, his freshly-lengthened stride eating up the distance quickly. Little thought was spared to the miracle of movement he was experiencing, but there was a small part of him that reveled in the feel of muscles bunching and releasing properly in his thigh. 

A small snarl crossed his lips as he saw her exit the building and turn away from work. After all her brave words about acting like a human, and proving her worth, here she was, showing her true colors. She had snuck away, had a private consultation with her allies, and was now off to do something in secret. She had demanded that they trust her, and what did she do, not forty-eight hours later? Betray that trust she had argued so well to be granted.

He wanted to run up to her, grab her by the arm and demand that she tell him what she had planned, but she was moving too swiftly. He had needed to stop running as the past few years had left him sadly out of endurance, and she was walking to swiftly for his tired body to close the gap. So instead he followed, his breathing growing only slightly labored as they traveled to the outskirts of December. And then past the confines of the city completely.

He began to wonder what was going on as the buildings grew farther apart. Surely she knew he was back here by now. He hadn't been shadowing her, merely following where she led, yet she didn't slow her pace and let him catch up. She didn't slow her pace at all once they hit the desert, in truth, she sped up from a quick walk to a slow lope. 

Mark suspected that she knew he was following, and that she knew he couldn't keep up at that pace. But if she thought that he would just turn around and give up because he could no longer even see her ahead of him on the dunes, she was sadly mistaken. As long as he could see traces of her passage, and even after, he followed her. 

What in the world was out here that was so important? It was sand, and sand, and dunes for hours. He ran when he could, and walked when he couldn't run, and he refused to sit down at all on the grounds that he might not be able to force himself back to his feet. Within the first hour of traveling the desert he had taken off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, but still the sweat dripped off him. 

Finally, he saw a dark smudge in the horizon. His pace picked up for a moment, but slowed as he began to wonder what was the point of this whole endeavor. Did he think that his presence was going to make a difference to whatever was going on? He pressed on past the mounting fears and apathy until he found that the only thing still moving forward was his mind.

He tried chiding himself, tried to get himself out of the bleak depression that had fallen over him. It was so out of character…. It was. She said that she was an empath. This was obviously a trick of hers, used to sap the will of those who might follow. Well, he was having none of that. Grimly, he pressed on, concentrating only on putting one foot before the other until he was rewarded by the faintest of sounds of sobbing.

What was this? Torture? He looked up, startled by the thought, and was amazed by what he saw, amazed enough to forget to keep moving forward.

It was a mass of trees. Trees so close to each other that they formed a wall, branches intertwined to keep people out. Trees in a line that defied rational measurement, that could have stretched for a mile on either side of him. So many trees, so much wood that his mind literally could not encompass what he saw. 

She could be rich, could be growing these trees for a bit of quick cash. He looked at them, looked up thirty feet to the tops that waved gently on the breeze and tried to calculate the market value of what he saw. Tried, and failed because his mind could not process so many zeros.

The sound of crying brought himself out of his trance, and he pushed forward again, mouth set in a grim line as he fought against the feelings assailing him. He forced his way past the trees and stopped again, his mind once more unable to comprehend what it saw.

Grass. Grass, and shrubs, flowers and vegetables as far as the eye could see. Off in the distance he could see some tall rock spires, but his entire being focused on the riches he saw here. Looking about, he could see no patch of earth not covered by some growing thing. The bright colors of flowers assaulted his eyes, the myriad fragrances vying for prominence in his nose. Over to his left was a grove of trees, fruit trees, bearing fruit. 

Without his volition his feet led him there, and without his direction one hand was raised to take an apple from a branch. While he picked one, another fell to the ground. He stared at it in dismay, then quickly picked it up. As he leaned over to pick it up, he saw that he had been walking on grass to get to the trees. Grass! He cursed his clumsy feet and hoped that he hadn't hurt it, then wondered where the paths around the greenery were. He couldn't see them anywhere.

With a guilty feeling, he slipped both apples into the pockets of his jacket, then set off towards the middle of this wondrous park, closer to the sounds of sobbing. He kept wanting to be distracted by the wonderful things around him, and could only pass them by because he suspected that they were just another distraction designed to keep pursuit from following.

But whatever suspicions he might have held were dispelled one he finally reached the center. Here, among the rocks and vines, beside the pool of water that bubbled and trilled he saw only Anne. She wasn't looking at the beauty that surrounded her, wasn't trying to lose him, wasn't trying to push him away, keep him from following, or distract him in any manner.

She was too busy wailing.


	84. Pain

Bad day, anyone?

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Her tears were not just for show. In fact, her tears had run out before he even arrived, but still she sniffled and sobbed, cried and keened, heedless of anything but her pain. The beauty that surrounded her had no affect on her anguish, eased no manner of her suffering.

She looked terrible, her eyes swollen beyond merely puffy, sand stuck to the traces of saltwater on her cheeks. She lay on her back in the sand, arms clenching legs close to chest, head flung back and staring at the uncaring sky. She rocked back and forth with the pain of each sob that was torn from her body. Her voice was raw, the tenor of her sobbing edged with an ache that made him think that her heart had broken.

What had gone on in her apartment? It was almost frightening to see her like this. She was always so cool, so calm, so collected. She was never afraid, never angry, and certainly never so vocal with her feelings as she was being now. Mark stood near one of the spires and wondered what he was supposed to do. He had a feeling that she had no clue he was here, and wasn't sure that he was meant to intrude on her grief.

Grief. That was only one of the emotions that filled the air and made it hard for him to breathe. Loneliness. Self-doubt. Betrayal. Guilt. Depression. Hurt. Jealousy. The negative emotions battered at him, assaulted him, dragged him down to share the pain that she could not suppress.

Before he could think, before he could talk himself out of his reaction, he was moving across the last bit of distance that separated them. He sank to the sand next to her and reached out a gentle hand to stroke the hair out of her eyes. He could offer her little comfort, but to deny her even that small amount would surely be a torture that she didn't deserve. The last of his barriers that her revelation as a plant had erected were washed away with these tears. She was too raw, too human for him to pretend that she was anything so other as to be incomprehensible. 

If he had expected something to change with that touch, for her to notice his presence, he would have been mistaken. But he had not; it was merely what little he could do on the outskirts of her agony. She still sobbed, even with his hand stroking her hair. All that changed was the angle of her head, turned ever so slightly away from him so that her eyes stared sightlessly towards the horizon, instead of towards the sky. Even heedless of his presence, she couldn't bear to share her tears.

What did happen was that the emotions that had assailed him increased tenfold. If they had seemed unbearable when he was one hundred feet away, being in this close of contact with her they nearly suffocated him. Tears trickled down his cheeks, substitute for the tears she had run out of. 

Time passed surreally, unheeded. Pain bound them together, regardless of whose it might properly be. As the minutes passed, as the tears fell, they moved closer together, sharing the misery the only way they knew how, taking what solace they could in the touch of another. At some point Anne was crying with her head on Mark's lap, and in the end she was soaking his shoulder with tears that had welled up from some source deep inside her. 

It was rather obvious when Anne realized that he was there. Without warning, without gradation, the feelings that had been assaulting him were gone. Not lessened, not abated, but disappeared as completely as if he had never felt them. The only clues left to him were the pains that sobbing had left in his body, but of the ones that had assailed his heart, there was nothing.

She pulled away from him at the same time, wiping at her cheeks with the edges of her sleeves, smearing the traces all over, rubbing the sand into her skin. Her head was turned slightly to one side, her eyes unable to even look at him.

"Sorry," she mouthed, her voice unable to supply the words. She rolled away and towards the pool of water, half-crawling until she was close enough to put her head in and drink.

"What was that?" he croaked, following her and following her example. "What happened? What is this place?"

She answered the easiest question. "This place is my home."

"You live here?"

"I would love to live here. It's my garden, my paradise. My refuge." She swallowed hard and didn't meet his eyes.

"But… how did you find it?"

"I didn't find it. I made it."

"From what?"

"Seeds. The pool of water was here in the beginning, but the rest of the place is my work. And the work of the plants that grew here. Life is a powerful force, and they wanted to live."

"It's… amazing."

"It's a hobby," she replied, shrugging dismissively before sighing and staring at the surface of the pool.

"What happened?" he asked again. 

"I'm sorry," she said obliquely. 

"Sorry for what?"

"I thought I was alone. That's why I came out here, so I could be alone and not make anyone else unhappy just because I was. That's one of the downsides to being an empath, you know? Always have to be careful to keep your emotions controlled, especially negative ones, or you'll affect others. And it's not fair to make other people feel bad because I'm not having a good day."

"That… that was more than not just having a bad day. What happened? Why did you leave work without me?"

"I had some questions I needed to ask, about Knives, and Ace, and… me." She swallowed hard. "I was told that there was no place for me." Her voice stayed carefully neutral, but even Mark could sense the pain that lay beneath them.


	85. In a garden

Bit short, but this took me 4 hours to write as it is. 

********************************************************************************

Mark didn't really want to sit and talk over what had made her so upset. It was beyond the merely obvious that she loved Knives. Her eyes sparkled when she saw him, thought of him, was near him. There was a glow about her when she was close to him that she never had when she was with him, and he realized what she had been saying the past few years wasn't a lie to save his feelings. She was waiting for someone, someone special to her.

She truly was in love with Knives, and he turned around and did this to her. She waited so patiently, and he dropped her so quickly. It wasn't fair to Anne, he thought as he looked at her huddled form, arms draped around legs held close to her chest. She stared at her feet, ignoring the beauty around her. The sparkle from the morning had disappeared completely, leaving only ashes in its wake; the glimmer that lingered in her eyes long after he left her sight had dissolved in her tears. He closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to do something equally painful to the man. It wasn't that Knives could likely kill him without trouble that stopped him, but the knowledge that killing Knives would likely kill Anne as well that did the trick. He couldn't hurt her. He admitted that now. Seeing her in pain twisted something inside him, that part of his heart that she had claimed over the past couple years. Plant or not, she was still Anne.

Instead of thinking about the problem, he looked about him at the beauty that his friend had created. The colors, the various shades of greens, the explosions of colors and scents that assaulted his eyes were a balm to his soul. It was as if someone had taken all the parks, all the gardens, and all the window boxes in December and crammed them in one place.

He took a deep breath, loving the flavor of the air. It was clean, clean in a way that city air could never be, but fresh in a way that the desert air rarely was. The rock spires that surrounded them were coated with vines and flowers, some with water sheeting and burbling down the sides. On others the vines draped around the rock in a lacy pattern, forming designs and patterns that he could sense, even if his mind could not put a name to what they formed.

The air was filled with the sounds of birds, their songs echoing in the air. Sweet twitters and chips came from secluded places, under hedges He saw a couple go flitting by, playing in the air, flying high, then low, the swooping over the surface of the water before alighting in the protective cover of one of the spires. Bugs buzzed lazily by, going from flower to flower in a slow dance.

He breathed in again, feeling the weight of the air in the back of his throat. Scents were layered so richly that he could nearly taste them. Herbs and flowers, scents deep and light, breathy and cloying, all mixed together with the rich scents of loam and grass. 

"This place is amazing," he said quietly after she had a bit on time to compose herself. 

"It's nothing much, really. I want it bigger."

"Bigger? This place is huge!"

"To you, maybe. But I'm used to a planet that looks like this. I'm tired of seeing desert all the time. Someday, I want to make more than a garden. I want a forest."

"And then you'll be rich."

"Huh?"

"With the price of wood? You would be rich if you owned a forest."

"But… then I would have to cut it down. I want a real forest, not a bunch of logs hat were once alive."

He shook his head slowly, dazzled by the thought of how much a forest would be worth. "You would have a serious problem with poachers," he cautioned. "I'm a bit surprised that this place is untouched."

"It's nowhere near a road, not on the way to anywhere, and the profile of the land is a little lower than the surrounding area. There's no one coming by to see, and it's below the horizon even if they were close enough to notice. Why, are you planning on coming by with an axe someday?"

"No. No, never. But not everyone is as principled as I am."

"Well, outside of me, you're the only other person who has been here. I think it's still safe." She thought for a moment. "And if it does get destroyed, I can always try again."

"Until that one is found."

She sighed. "I can only do what I can. One of my goals is to make this planet into a biosphere more amicable to human life, but it's going to take me awhile. You know, it's kind of funny, but me, Vash, Knives, we all want to do things that make things grow. Vash had his tree farm, I have my little garden, and Knives would like to pursue viniculture. Funny, plants liking plants. I tried to find out if that was one of the things bred into us, but I couldn't find any conclusive evidence. Too many years passed, too many files lost in the fall. But that would be ironic, wouldn't it?" She sighed, then returned to her brooding.


	86. Nightfall

The cold has receded to a point where my brain had come out of hiding. Ergo, fic.

Oh, and in the interim, I figured out how it's going to end. Finally. And don't worry, there's a lot to go between here and there.

********************************************************************************

Mark stood and wandered around the area that used to be the oasis. He knew that there was no point in trying to talk to Anne right now, so left her alone to brood while he looked at a few of the marvels around him. He wished that he had time to look at all the things that tantalized him, but realized that his time in the paradise was going to be short by necessity. 

It felt so odd to be walking on grass. He knew that he shouldn't, knew that his very presence was killing it, but Anne hadn't made any paths through her garden. He couldn't really see why she would neglect something so vital, but she had. So he stepped as lightly as he could, and tried to ignore the guilt that his visible footsteps caused. 

It was amazing, simply amazing to be surrounded by such a plethora of life. Here, roses snaked up and around one of the rock spires, their fragrance filling the late afternoon air. He looked at the flowers, at the petals and leaves, and he figured out where the cuttings that had been stolen from the Rose Quarter had gone. There had been a minor uproar when the desecration of the garden had been discovered. One flower had been deliberately snipped from each bush, the scar mocking those who took pleasure in a stroll around the flowers. Some had thought that it was a lovesick beau, some felt that it was malicious vandalism, and some felt that it was just a prank, but no one had ever been able to figure out who did it, or why. The flowers themselves had disappeared, not to be found in anyone's possession, or even in a random compost heap. Much of the city had helped look for the perpetrator, an effort that had banded together disparate groups for a few weeks. A smile teased his lips as he remembered how nonchalant Anne had been during that time. Plants grow back, he recalled her saying.

He looked at the towering bush in front of him and contrasted it mentally with what lived in the garden. That small, spindly sample couldn't hold a candle to what she had grown. How did she do it? Did she know how to make them grow, secrets lost to the denizens of Gunsmoke, or was it just more of her tricks? 

He grabbed one of the apples and bit into the crisp flesh while he wandered Taste exploded on his tongue, sweet and tart at the same time. It was easily the best fruit he had ever tasted. There was so much to see, so much that called out to all his senses, and yet the light was fading faster then he could take it all in. 

Night fell differently here then it did in the desert, he discovered. Instead of being drawn like a curtain with the passing of the last sun, it seemed to collect under the leaves as the great stars slipped towards the horizon, then pool outwards like water cascading over a table, spreading over everything without seeming to diminish at all.

The birds began to chirp softly to each other, sweet sounds of preparation for sleep. Leaves rustled together like sheets of paper as they flitted to what branch they called home, the green shields hiding the small bodies.

Mark breathed deep of the rich, warm, living scent of the air. He wondered if this was what Earth was like, back in the days before there were too many people, before the offered beauty was despoiled. He filled his lungs, then exhaled and filled them again, trying to imprint the memory of everything he had seen and felt on his mind, feeling the magic inherent in the moment, inherent in the life that surrounded him tingle in his veins. Then he turned and walked back to where Anne still sat.

He approached as gently as he could, then sat down beside her. After waiting a few seconds, hoping in vain that she would acknowledge his presence, he spoke. "We need to go back now, Anne. It's getting late, and this place is iles from December."

"No," she said softly, almost whimsically, but she didn't move.

He waited again, wanting her to say more, then added, "We need to get to work tomorrow morning."

She shrugged her shoulders in reply.

He sighed. "Are you running away from the problem?"

"No."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm thinking, Mark."

"Thinking about what?"

"About what I'm going to do next. About how I'm going to officially react to what Ace told me. About if I can make myself go home again or not."

"What did she say?"

"She hates me."

"Was that it?"

"…No."

"Then what was it? I know it involves her and Knives."

She sighed. "She manipulated him into a relationship with her, just to hurt me."

Mark looked at her for a minute, then shrugged. "So just tell him that."

"Like he'll even believe me."

"Have you lied to him before?"

"Yes. Often."

"Oh. Has she?"

"Not that I know of, save for this big one."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, we can't stay here."

She sighed. "I know. We have work."

"Do you have anywhere to go?"

"I can get a hotel room, I guess." She frowned.

"What?"

"I forgot to pick up some clothes when I left," she explained, then shrugged. "Not a big deal. I remembered the computer," she offered when she took in his puzzled glance. 

"You were running out on your family, and you thought to grab that stupid cube?"

"If I'm not going back there, it's the only thing I can't replace."

"But…" He shook his head, bemused. 

"Besides," she continued. "They aren't my family."

"What?"

"We may all be plants, or most of us, but they aren't family. They just aren't." She turned her head away as she stood up, and he carefully didn't notice as she wiped at her eyes.


	87. Going back

Don't worry… the ending is months off still. 

*******************************************************************************

They had paused on the way out for Mark to grab a few more apples, one for his aunt and each of his nieces, then they pushed their way through the ring of trees that guarded her garden.

"Why are those there?" Mark asked, asperity tinting his voice. He had followed too close behind Anne as she passed through and got hit in the face with a branch. He worked his mouth a few times to make sure that his jaw was still attached, then continued. "Trying to keep people out? I thought you said that no one came this way."

"The branches keep the sands out. Otherwise, the grass gets covered in a few months."

"Oh. That makes sense." He turned to look at them again, saw how the branches intertwined even close to the ground, and nodded as he saw their purpose.

"Thank you. I rather thought it did."

They were both rather quiet on the walk back, trudging silently across the sands. Anne was still mostly lost in her mind, and Mark was busy trying to commit every detail of that visit to memory. He had hardly the words to describe that place, but knew that he needed to find them. It was too much a wonder that somewhere like that could even exist on this planet. To let any part of its memory fade seemed to him to be nearly sacrilegious. 

The journey to the oasis had taken hours, and the walk back took even longer as the urgency that had driven Anne had abated. Mark was too lost in his own thoughts to notice how long the walk was taking, and she didn't care to arrive in December any earlier than she had to. She wasn't dragging her feet, not really, but she wasn't hurrying back by any means.

With a sigh, she looked up at the stars, their twinkle unobscured by the lights of the city. They seemed so bright, so close that her hand rose to touch one of its own volition. Then she remembered another night where she had tried to touch the stars, and her hand fell back down. She stopped walking and buried her face in her hands, breathing heavily as she tried to get her emotions under control again.

"What's wrong?" he asked, but she could only shake her head. 

After a few minutes she sniffed loudly and let her hands fall. "Sorry," she said through a too-tight throat. "It's just… everything reminds me of him."

He shook his head slowly. It still boggled his mind that she was in love with Knives Millions. The most evil man he had ever heard of, and she stood there and acted like a love addled fool. He wanted to shake her, to tell her that she was better off with that creature out of her life, but he was wise enough to hold his tongue. She didn't need to hear right now that this was for the best, even though it was. Maybe in a few days, when she was capable of being a bit more rational. But crying over looking at stars?

Better to give her those few days.

Taken from his thoughts, he looked at the moons and gauged the time.

"Whoa, it's really getting late," he noted. "How much farther?"

"Another ten iles, easy."

"We aren't going to get back before midnight."

"Nope."

"That's when the hotels close," he felt obliged to point out.

"Oh. Damn." Her pace picked up a bit. "You're right." Then it slowed again. "I'll just sleep at work. I have a blanket there."

"There's no bed at work."

"There's no bed in my apartment, either. That didn't stop me from sleeping last night."

He shook his head. "We have that guest room. You've slept over before; you still even have some pajamas there."

"No. Oh, no. Your aunt is not going to want me there."

"She's probably asleep already. If we're quiet, she'll never know you're there."

"It's not right. What will she say when she learns that her son's killer decided to visit again?" Bitterness twisted the words, making them sour in her mouth.

He sighed, then tried another tactic. "Anne… There are no showers at work."

"So?"

"You are a little less than fresh at the moment."

"I'm still better than the engineers."

"True. But unless you want people to ask you questions, you're going to need to get clean."

Anne sniffed the air and grimaced. "Fine. You're right. I need a shower." She sighed. "You win. But I'm in and out, and she doesn't have to see me. I don't want to hurt her like that."

He nodded, and they walked the last few iles to December in silence. But as it turned out, Anne didn't need to sneak into Mark's house.

Or rather, didn't get to.

The porch light wasn't on, nor were any in the house, so there were no clues to hint that not every member of the household was snuggled warmly in bed. Mark unlocked the front door and ushered Anne in, then turned on the hall light.

And his aunt was there to great them.

"So, the murderer returns," she said, her voice harsh. She stood slowly, her bones creaking as she arose from her chair in the living room. 

"I was worried about you, hon," she continued, looking at Mark. "You had told me you were going to come home some time this afternoon to pick up some more of your things, but you never came. I wondered what she had done to you this time." Her voice dripped hate when she referred to Anne.

"She didn't do anything," he protested weakly, backing up a step as his aunt walked closer.

Anne sighed, squared her shoulders, and began to apologize for having bothered her.

"You shut up, murderer," snarled Kathryn. She raised her hand and slapped Anne across the face, hard. Anne collapsed to the floor, unconscious, and Mark had to grab his aunt's arm to keep her from hitting her again.


	88. Telling all

It wasn't that Aunt Kathryn had hit her very hard, although the slap had not been light. The wallop that laid her out was the emotional whammy that accompanied the physical contact. All of the hatred, the anger, the rage, the fear, the betrayal, the hurt, every single feeling that Mark's aunt had been nursing as she sat in the dark and worried about her nephew, all of it hit her at once. After the day she had endured her defenses were weak, and her coping strategies were nonexistent. Instead of being able to let then slide over her, each emotion mingled with hers, and it was just too much. For her own protection her mind shut itself off until the emotions subsided to a manageable level.

While Anne lay senseless on the floor, Mark tried to explain a few things that he had omitted. "It's not her fault," he started.

"Not her fault? How is it not her fault? She killed him!" she hissed.

"It was self-defense," he said quietly.

His aunt looked at him questioningly. "How can it be self defense when she was kidnapping a child?"

"She was rescuing her."

"But you said that…"

"I lied. Things are a bit more complicated than he or I ever let you know. Anne, she was doing the right thing when she took the child."

"How is kidnapping ever right?"

Mark sighed. "It's a very long story, and it's not one I feel like telling right now."

"Why not, Mark?" croaked Anne as she sat up. "Haven't you had enough of all the lies? I know I have."

He looked at her incredulously. "You want her to know?"

"To know what?" questioned Kathryn.

"To know that I'm a plant, and so is the girl I rescued."

"You're a what?"

Anne sighed. "The beings in the bulbs are humans, altered by Lost Technology to fit in an alien environment and to be able to produce power." She used the wall as a support while she stood. "And every now and then one of those beings has a child. Mark, and his friends at the plant had been taking those kids out of the bulbs and experimenting on them until they got too old, and then they killed them. Somehow, and honestly I don't know how, but somehow one of the kids was taken from the plant. I rescued her from those kidnappers, and then when Mark and your son and two other men came to try to take her away from me, I didn't let them. During the altercation I shot your son, and since someone had tampered with my ammunition before the fight, the bullet did not go in his shoulder, as I planned, but in his heart. You have no idea how sorry I am that such a thing happened, but it did and I can't make it better." Her voice broke on the last.

"A… Plant?" asked Kathryn weakly.

Anne nodded. "It's a great big secret, that not all plants are in bulbs. Mark is part of a group dedicated to figuring out how to make sure that there are no plants like me, living outside a bulb. They think I'm too dangerous to be allowed to exist."

"This is… a lie."

"No," said Mark quietly. "It's not a lie."

"My son would not torture an innocent child." She shook her head back and forth slowly, as if she could shake the notion away.

"He didn't. We were just the muscle sent to bring her back. Scientists did the research."

"Why didn't you tell me this was what you were doing?"

"Because it's a secret. The December group is devoted to killing the plants that live outside bulbs. They are dangerous creatures." Anne sighed, but he ignored her. "We are trying to take care of the problem secretly. It is the opinion of the senior members of the group that if we leaked the knowledge of the existence of the plants to the public, we would destabilize the current social order. Plants look like normal humans; you can't tell by just looking at your neighbor if he is or isn't one. Plus, some people would favor them, wouldn't see them as the danger they are and would disagree with the need to kill them."

"Yup. Some people might judge me as a person and not a creature," Anne affirmed weakly.

"This is… insane," she said weakly as she turned and walked back to her chair. "I mean, this is just insane. I can't believe either of you. You must have been drinking. This is a fantasy that you cooked up, that you believe between the two of you."

"It's not a lie, Kathryn," Anne said softly. "Look at me."

She turned, and Anne floated a ball of light her way, the soft silver light illuminating the wry smile on her face. "I can do all sorts of tricks that you can't. I can read minds, sense emotions, and damn near make miracles. Mark's friends, my bosses, really since they all seem to work at the plant, they fear me because I can do all sorts of things they can't stop."

Kathryn sat down weakly, almost missing her chair. "You… I…"

"Say it, I don't mind. I'm a freak. I know," Anne finished up sadly.

"No," she whispered. "No," she said more firmly. "That wasn't what I was going to say. Why didn't you, either of you, say anything about this before? Why didn't you say any of this over the weekend Mark? Why did you both lie to me?"

"I'm sorry," said Anne softly, Mark echoing her a moment behind. Anne walked into the living room and sat across from her, hands on knees, fingers loosely intertwined. "I just am tired of people hating me," she said, staring into her hands. "Every time people know what I am, they hate me."

"And I was too busy hating her," Mark said from his post in the doorway. "She's not what I was expecting a plant to be, and I was having a hard time looking past what I've been told I need to fear and seeing that it was only Anne on the other side after all."


	89. Hope

Hmm. I like how this chapter wrote up. It's another example of where the story hijacks where I plan it will go, and takes its own path for a bit.

*******************************************************************************

It was arranged that Anne would stay there that night, and the rest of the night passed, if not in peaceful slumber, then at least with the pretense that such was possible. Anne arose after only a few hours of sleep in order to be dressed and showered before the girls woke up. She just didn't have the energy to handle any more explanations at the moment. Let Mark and Kathryn have a chance to set the record straight. It didn't always have to be her fixing the messes that life created.

She yawned hugely as she closed the front door behind her and stepped off the front porch. Dawn was still only a faint lightening of the sky, a hint that the night would end, and the streets were silent as she walked to work. She fingered the computer cube in her pocket and tried very hard to think only of work. And mostly failed. The question that haunted her, that mocked her, would not let her mind rest on mundane matters. It rose again and again, no mater how hard she tried to push it away.

Why would Ace do that? Why would Ace do that, to her? To her, of all people? It continued to torment her, taking up all the space in her waking thoughts, stealing in around the edges of whatever barrier she tried to erect between her problems and the rest of her life. 

She had never meant to hurt her, never tried to harm her in any way. Surely her absence didn't, couldn't have hurt her that much.

Didn't she see that she couldn't have stayed? There was just too much, it was all too much for her to handle. To have gone from a place that was pain and misery, pain and more pain, never with an end in sight, to have gone from there to somewhere that she could have had a family, where people wanted her around, where they seemed to care for her at all, couldn't she see that it was overwhelming her?

She kicked at a rock on the sidewalk, moving it up her path so she could kick it again and again as she walked. This place, any place, it had stopped feeling real to her. She had stopped feeling real to herself, caught up as she was in the lives of others. She needed to get herself back before she lost that one last final bit, lost it forever and disappeared. Something in her would have died if she had stayed. She knew that, knew it would happen with the finality of fate. It always happened to her. Some god she had offended in her youth had surely cursed her.

Anne thought she knew what it was that had troubled her so. After all the years of hopelessness, after all the time where the only person she could count on to never fail her was herself, finding that there were people out there who truly wouldn't let her down was too much for her. It was almost as if she could hope again.

Her hope had died, some time before she ever came here. She had dreamed of a place where she could be accepted for what she was, but had stopped believing that she could find a place like that in her own world. She still dreamed, but had lost the hope that her dreams would ever come true.

And then they had. Amazingly, impossibly, they had. Admitting that, she had to believe, and in believing she had to have hope.

But hope was too much for her. It's far easier to take each day, knowing that what will come is a mixture of bland and bad, with a scant bit of good fortune tossed in for fair measure and to keep one guessing. Never hope that today a dream might come true, never hope that today might be a day different from all the rest because it was _better_, because it never ever was. Never better. Sometimes decent, oftentimes bland, occasionally very bad, but better always implied that the direction of things might change, that the bland days might move more towards decent, and maybe even eventually throwing in a few good days for spice.

Her mouth twisted, lips pursed as if she had tasted something sour as she remembered one of her homilies. Hope is only a demon, last of them all, tormenting only the weak.

In the story of Pandora's box, when curiosity overcomes caution with ill results, demons of misery spread to cover the land, and the last thing to emerge from the box, well after the evils had fled, was hope. Hope, which was supposed to be the remedy, the apology offered by the gods after ill escaped, was always to her just the last of the evils. Far better to just take what you saw, cope with what was there then lie to yourself and find ways to make circumstances better in any way. Hopes dashed were more painful than any ill, disease, or famine that ever preceded the last demon from the box. 

She had run when she first felt hope stir within her. Hope that these days might last, that she might live to see days where she wasn't always afraid that people were going to hurt her. Where instead they would love her. It was too painful, too new a feeling for her to handle. Much better to run, to stop and see if she could handle having hopes at all before something inevitably happened to dash them.

Something like what Ace had done. She kicked the rock so hard then that it spun off somewhere in the distance ahead and she lost it. She was right to not hope. Right to believe that there would never be a place for her where people accepted her. Never. Ever.

She bit back tears again, hating the weakness. Dashed hopes, that's all it was. Nothing that she couldn't deal with, couldn't handle. She knew how to not hope, how to keep herself from being so close to others that hope ever came into question. Trust? Fools trusted.

And she had been a mighty fool.


	90. Things aren't quite right

*This* was yesterday's intended chapter. Ooo, plot!

*******************************************************************************

Mark's morning had not gone the way he planned. First off, Anne escaped way too early in the morning. He had all these questions he wanted to ask, and she neatly avoided them by waking up earlier than him. He only awoke when he heard the front door close. Stumbling to the window, he saw her head off down the street, hair dully reflecting the porch light, then fading as she moved off.

He cursed under his breath, then tried to force his body into some semblance of haste. His leg ached abominably after the exertion of yesterday, causing him to trip at odd moments and slowing him down tremendously as he tried to perform his morning ablutions. He cut his chin while shaving and soundlessly whispered vile curses while he waited for the bleeding to ease. 

Then, after finally getting ready and when he was almost out the door, his aunt emerged from her room and cornered him with questions. Last night they had all been too tired to pursue the situation, but where he and Anne had fallen quickly to sleep, obviously his aunt had not.

"Why was she here last night?" she asked.

"She's having problems with," he started, then paused. Anne had denied that they were family, and she didn't know what else to call them, so he started over. "Some of the other plants came into town a few days ago. I was staying over there to keep an eye on them, to see what they were up to. But one of the guys there is the boyfriend that she's talked about all these years. And he's sleeping with the girl that Anne saved." Then he had to explain how the plants aged differently and that no, Knives wasn't a pedophiliac. At least, not entirely.

Finally, the girls began to awaken and he was released from questions. He walked to work as quickly as he could, then looked in on Anne's office.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, looking up from writing a report. "Did I leave my towel on the floor?"

He let that pass. "Are you doing ok?"

She looked at him oddly, as if he had asked a pointless question. Politely, she said she was fine.

"Not running off to parts unknown today?"

"I have that gig tonight," she said with a slightly hollow laugh. "And I've been neglecting work lately. Probably should take care of my obligations." Then she looked back at her report, clearly dismissing him and his concerns.

He backed up a couple steps, closed the door behind him, then rested his back against it. Looking at the ceiling, he sighed. 

She wasn't acting right. After the mourning of yesterday, after the grief that she showed, this was wrong. Unnatural. 

He shook his head and went off to find Effie.

She was busy trying to make up for her absence as well. Two of her engineers had taken advantage of her lapse in attention to pursue a few pet projects that they were certain would be the real solution to the energy crisis, and she was trying to explain to them why losing focus at this late a date was not a good idea.

When he got a chance he pulled her to the side and asked her to go check on Anne. She nodded, went off for a few short minutes, then came back.

"She seems fine. A little distant, but fine," she affirmed. "Why, what's wrong?"

"She was crying her eyes out yesterday because she found out that her boyfriend had moved on."

"No," she gasped. "A letter?"

He frowned. "She didn't really say how, but it wasn't a letter. Her boyfriend is Knives Millions."

"The murderer?"

He nodded absently, toying with the edges of an idea.

"She's better off without him," Effie said sternly.

He blinked and looked at her. "I… have to go," he said.

"Go where?" 

"I'm curious about just what happened yesterday."

"Oh, you're going to go listen to the spies?" She stepped towards the door, obviously intending to go with him, but raised voices behind them called her back to work. Mark shook his head wryly, glad that he wasn't a manager, and went off to one of the parts of the plant appropriated for Group work. 

He nodded to the technician in charge of coordinating the listening devices. They had been planted in Anne's apartment while she was being held at the plant, just on the off chance they might be useful. After the rescue, it had been decided that it was vital to know if they were planning anything, what they were intending to do next. Once it was obvious that there were no current plans for the imminent massacre of the human race, they still listened in, just to see what sort of creatures these plants truly were. 

Even those members of the group who disagreed with the continued employment and freedom of Anne to roam about the plant were nearly giddy over the opportunity afforded by the these little bugs. Finally, to see the enemy as he truly was! 

They just hadn't expected them to be quite so boring. Quite so… normal. No one had expected that they would be subjected to bathroom squabbles and accusations of just whose job it had been to pack the right amount of underwear. On the first day this room had been packed with people wanting to listen in, and today it was just him and the technician. 

He accessed the recordings from an hour before he had seen Anne emerge from her apartment building. Starting with the living room as the most obvious place for the discussion, he listened to mostly boring phrases and fragments of conversation. He heard Anne come in, heard her travel through the room and into the kitchen, and then muffled voices from that room. Then the men left, then some more conversation from the kitchen, then he heard Anne leave.

He checked the time that Anne had arrived, then pulled up the kitchen feed. He thought that he was calmly listening to what Ace said, but found himself tightly clenching the edge of the desk when it was through.

That cold little bitch, he thought. No wonder Anne was upset.

He sat back and thought for a few minutes about this, and Anne's behavior yesterday, and how she was acting today. The spark, the life that normally danced in her eyes was gone, and what remained was only a calm acceptance that this was the way things were supposed to be. That she was so easily discarded from the lives of others. That this was all she could expect from life.

With a grimace and a faintly sour taste in his mouth, he made the only decision he could.


	91. The decision

Mark downloaded the pertinent portion of the recording onto a cube that he had appropriated. The technician in the room, obviously bored, had been watching him as he tried to determine what had gotten Anne so upset.

"Fun stuff, huh?" he said jokingly. "All the fun and drama of a play, and you don't even have to pay for it. Listen to them long enough and you'll almost think they're human."

Mark glared at him. "They are." Moron, his tone implied. "That's really the entire problem." The technician paled under the weight of his ire. Mark turned and stalked out of the room, feeling slightly guilty within a few steps. It wasn't the tech's fault he was in a bad mood, but this whole situation left a sour taste in his mouth. 

Anne didn't deserve this. She shouldn't love a creature like Millions, a killer, a cruel, heartless being. She deserved someone who would love her, cherish her, never hurt her. A slight twist afflicted his lips when he realized that he no longer belonged on that list. He bounced the cube on his palm as he strode through the corridors, pausing only to open the door to the outside. 

He stood for a moment on the threshold, not entirely sure that what he planned to do was the right course of action. The still crisp air of the morning was beginning to give way to mid-morning languor, and he looked out over the nearly empty plaza with a frown, looking fruitlessly for an answer. Nothing here was going to tell him what to do. He glanced down at the cube, the simple gray square no help in his decision, either.

With a sigh, he stepped forward. The way to Anne's apartment was well known, with nothing new or exciting to distract him from the doubts that plagued him. Each step was an affirmation of a thought that he wasn't sure he agreed with, each pace brought him closer to a goal he didn't think he ever wanted to reach. And after too few minutes he found himself at Anne's building. 

Years ago, Anne had given him and Effie keys to her place. He used his now to enter the front door. Faced with the stairs, he paused. He didn't want to do what was coming next, didn't want to climb those last few flights, didn't want to… He sighed again, then started up the stairs. He'd feel a fool if he backed down now.

He didn't let himself pause at the top of the stairs, but walked as swiftly as he could make himself move to the door to Anne's apartment. With an audible swallow, he knocked on the door.

Alex answered. "Hello, Mark," he said politely. "Are you here to pick up your things?"

"Where's Millions?" Mark replied, then winced at how abrupt he sounded. "I have some things I need to say to him," he amended, then wondered if that had helped at all.

Alex didn't seem particularly perturbed, merely nodding and asking if he wanted to come in. Mark shook his head, and so stood in the hall while Knives was fetched.

And all too soon answered the door. The cold blue eyes appraised him for a moment, and Mark felt himself begin to sweat. "What do you want?" he asked mildly, the tone still managing to found faintly menacing. 

Mark responded to his discomfort by glaring. "We need to talk. In private." He turned and walked back to the stairs, hoping that Knives was following because he would look a right fool if he wasn't. He heard the door close softly behind him, but didn't turn to look. His only clue that he was being followed was the squeak of a stair as they climbed to the roof. A bit of tension eased from his shoulders at that point, but enough remained that he was still very uncomfortable.

They walked out onto the roof, Mark crossing the width of it to rest his elbows on the low wall that edged it. He stared out over the city for a few moments as he tried to find the right words to say.

"What do you want?" asked Knives again, this time with a bit more heat, the menace less guarded.

Mark fished in his pocket and drew out the cube. He set it next to his elbow, then went back to contemplating the skyline. Knives moved up next to him and took it, holding it gently between the first two fingers of his right hand. 

"Am I supposed to be impressed by this?" he asked calmly, and Mark turned to glare at him.

"You're supposed to listen to what's on it."

"Ah." Knives smiled a little. "Is this where you try to defend Anne, to say that Ace was wrong, that Anne didn't threaten to kill her?" His voice stayed calm. "Or am I supposed to be shocked to learn that you people have been spying on us?"

Mark's face betrayed the surprise he felt, but he stayed quiet. Knives looked at the cube again, then accessed the recording. Ace's voice rang out clear in the air between them. After the first few phrases, Knives hand began to shake, and before the recording was finished he had rested the cube on his palm, hand no longer steady enough to just hold it. Once the last vile sentence had been uttered, Knives closed his hand around the cube gently, and stepped forward to unintentionally mirror Mark's pose.

Mark watched his face intently, noted the tightening around the eyes, the flaring of the nostrils, the way the pale face lost what color it had. The arrogant bearing was lost under the weight of betrayal.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was happening. The bastard he hated, the monster he loathed was turning into a man betrayed right before his eyes. He didn't want that, didn't want to know that this cool, calm thing might actually be a human in disguise. To fight that feeling, his next words came out colder than they might.

"I didn't do this for you; I could care less if you're sleeping with that scheming tart. I did this for Anne, because despite what would be best for her, losing you has destroyed something inside her. And she doesn't deserve to be treated like this. She doesn't deserve you," the word laced with disgust, "but since you're what she wants…" he let the thought trail off, then shrugged. 

Knives turned and sagged against the wall, sliding down until he sat on the ground. He closed his eyes and held the cube close to his chest. "Go away," he said, voice tight with suppressed emotion, and Mark was more than happy to oblige.

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Oneechan, you guessed. =Þ


	92. Despair

*groans* I am so tired and stiff. Anyone wanna give me a backrub?

*******************************************************************************

Knives sat slumped next to the half wall and didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Everything was so messed up, everything he thought was real had turned into a lie somehow. 

When he and Vash had gone down from the roof yesterday, they had found Ace sitting at the kitchen table, looking blankly into space, a pensive frown between her brows. It took a bit of prodding to get the story out of her, but she finally admitted that Anne had threatened her. Had said that you don't steal an assassin's boyfriend and expect to get away with it. Ace tried to make it look like Anne had gone storming off and was going to calm down, but he, Vash, and Alex had spent the night guarding the place on the chance that Anne was going to try for a bit of retribution.

And all that was a lie? 

He rolled the cube around his palm, thinking carefully. He and Vash had suspected that there were listening devices. For the most part they had ignored the possibility, not even speaking of it, but that was one of the reasons they had sought out the roof yesterday. He hadn't wanted his pain to be analyzed by the humans in whatever scheme they were hatching. Bad enough that he had lost Kiley, Anne, whoever she was posing as now. They didn't need to know what she meant to him.

Ace obviously hadn't suspected. Or perhaps she had, perhaps she had wanted the record of what she had done to Anne to exist somewhere, as proof of how brilliant she had been. 

Knives sighed again as he realized how neatly he had been ensnared. He had never loved Ace, never pretended to. But she had seemed to love him. After she had emerged from the bulb she had been devastated by Kiley's loss. Every night as he tried to leave her room, she would cry and carry on until she either passed out from exhaustion or until he did. She was afraid to have him out of her sight.

Finally, he had succumbed to the inevitable and let her sleep in his room. A small bed was made up for her in the corner, but many mornings he would find her cuddled by his side. 

Then, one morning she had done more than cuddle. He had thought he was dreaming until sensations became more vivid than any dream he could recall. He tried to stop then, to pull away, but she wouldn't let him. She knew what she wanted, and she had it. Afterwards, he tried to rationalize things. She was a plant, a proper mate. He liked her well enough, could picture her company for the rest of his life and the thought did not make him cringe. She wouldn't die on him in just a few short years like Kiley would. She seemed happy enough being near him, and while he wouldn't say that the arrangement was one of unmitigated joy for him, he was comfortable enough with the way things were that he saw no real need to change.

Kiley was becoming more and more of a memory. The most pleasant memory he had, but surely he had begun to color those memories with more happiness then they deserved. He could not have mean t that much to her or she couldn't have just left like she had. Left, and never come back, not even as the years passed. And even if she was as great as he remembered, she was going to die on him soon enough anyway. Far better to build a life with someone who could share his, to not love someone who would end up leaving forever.

Even if it was only a comfortable life, contentment was not something that should be spurned in the pursuit of happiness.

All the rationalizations that had padded the years had fallen away when he had learned that Kiley was a plant, though. Suddenly, she wasn't going to die on him, or at least she wasn't if he could go and save her. The thought of living comfortably with Ace began to wear on him, to feel wrong. 

Too bad that the woman he discovered wasn't the one he had loved. She wasn't even Kiley anymore, having given up the nickname for reasons he could understand, even if she never deigned to explain. 

She hadn't seemed to have missed him very much, either. He laughed hollowly at the thought. That had obviously been a lie.

He didn't know what he had expected. Gratitude for saving her life? Not Kiley. Likely she still didn't acknowledge that she had needed their help at all. For her to leap into his arms, showering him with kisses and her undying devotion? Not when she thought that the only reason he had finally shown up was because he had discovered that she was a plant. 

He sighed again. Why couldn't she see that he had rushed to her side because she was just _her_? The thought of life on this planet without her twisted something inside him, made him feel ill. 

Kiley. Anne. He had assumed that Ace was telling the truth, that this Anne persona was just that, another facet to her personality. He had assumed that Kiley was who she was, a killer. Ace's lie had the ring of truth, but he began to believe that Anne was trying to become who she could have been, had she not killed so many. Gunsmoke was her chance to start over, and she was taking it, trying to not repeat the actions that had brought her so much grief in her first life.

Anne. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, starting with "I'm sorry" and filled with "I love you." He just hoped that he hadn't thrown away his chance to have her listen.


	93. Irony

I *did* promise a happy ending eventually, right? That may no longer be the case….

*******************************************************************************

Knives eventually grew tired of sitting up on the roof feeling sorry for himself. He would have stayed up there forever if by doing so he could keep the consequences of Ace's actions from haunting her. He supposed that was one of her defenses; anyone who looked at her, all of them, they still saw a child. A girl as yet unsure of her place in the world. He would have thought himself the last person capable of being taken in by a pair of innocent blue eyes in a youthful face. Just look at the destruction he had caused before in his first year. But her act had fooled him as completely, no, more completely than Vash or Meryl. They both cautioned him, said that what was between him and Ace wasn't quite right. 

He had thought that since it was her idea, where was the harm? None of them had guessed at the hate that those innocent eyes hid. He least of all. With a sigh for his foolishness, he stood and brushed the dust off his pants, then slid the cube in the front pocket of his jeans. Brushing his hands together, he strode towards the door and marched back to Anne's apartment.

"What was that all about?" asked Ace as he entered, her innocent eyes meeting his, lifting from a book she had bought yesterday. Was there suspicion lurking behind her gaze, or was he looking too hard for what he knew lived there?

"It's much like you said," he said diffidently, hiding his unease with the practice of over a century. "She's working with the people at the plant."

"Oh?"

"Mark was here, trying to make me believe that Kiley was the injured party."

"I told you they would."

"You were right," he affirmed, allowing a slightly pensive look to cross his face. Oh, how easy it was to manipulate the trusting, he thought. How very easy.

"What?" she asked, getting up off the couch and coming over to slide her hands around his waist. He kept himself from cringing, but it was a near thing.

"I just wonder why she could betray us like this. To work for, no, with, our enemies. Why?"

"You know she isn't sane. She never has been."

"I know. But why? How did we harm her? What did I do to her that made her betray me? Us?"

She sighed and rested her head on his chest. "She may not need a reason. She might just be hurting us because she can. Because it gives her power. Most of all, because she wants to. Why does she need a reason? Does it hurt less that way?"

He echoed her sigh. "It might."

"She had a horrible childhood. Maybe it left her unable to trust anyone, and hurting us first is her way of ensuring that we can't hurt her."

"But why would she think that? What did we ever do to her to make her think that we would ever do her harm?"

She pulled back enough to look him in the eyes. "It might not be anything we did. It just might be a part of who she is."

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers. "It's just so wrong of her. She's blind if she can't see that we love her."

"Maybe she can't accept it, can't understand it enough to trust it."

"She should," he said sternly. 

"Maybe she can't stand the thought that you could belong to someone else. To me. Some would call that a betrayal."

He pulled back and shook his head. "No. She said that what we did while apart was not the other's business. She knows she has no right to stop what's between us."

"Then why did she threaten to kill me?"

He slipped her arms off his waist and paced the room a bit. "I don't know. I don't know what she's thinking, or why. I just know…" he let the thought trail off.

"… that she's dangerous," Ace finished for him.

"Yes," he said, nodding sadly. "She's a plant, and dangerous is one thing we are all very good at."

She stepped behind him and placed her hands on his hips, stopping his pacing. "We're good at many things," she said simply. "Dangerous is only one of them."

He turned in her grasp. "I dislike knowing that she's plotting against us. I just have this horrible feeling that she's going to try lying again, going to try to make us distrust one another."

"If we know that's what she's planning, then it won't work. We'll be cautious, be careful and listen to everything she says, look for the hidden meanings and half-truths. She won't succeed, not if we are on our guard."

He couldn't stop the laugh, then. One quick bark, the irony of their conversation overwhelming reason.

"What's so funny?" she asked, and he could hear a faint not of caution in her voice.

"Only that you are young to be so wise."

"Would you forget about my age?" she asked, asperity crowding out suspicion. "By the time you were my age, you had--"

"Changed the course of human history," he interrupted, having heard her gripe so many times before. "I know, I know," he said, rolling his eyes. "You are an adult, perfectly capable of making your own choices and decisions, and able to abide by the consequences thereof."

"And don't you forget it."

He smiled down at her, wondering how she expected him to forget when all he could see before them were the consequences of her hate?

*******************************************************************************

Just kidding. Stick with me; we'll still see the happy.


	94. Misdirection

Sorry about the delay.

********************************************************************************

Knives walked into the kitchen, startling Meryl and Vash. They had been sitting next to each other at the table, intent on their whispered conversation. From the guilty look on his brother's face, it had something to do with him. He smiled at the two of them and took one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table. 

He loved watching the slightly panicked look on Meryl's face when she searched for a new topic of conversation. The quick change in thinking, the quest for something so different that he wouldn't be able to guess whatever topic had held their attention a moment before. It was such a transparent effort to keep him placated, and he wondered what she thought he would do if, just once, they continued their conversation. Was she afraid that he would take umbrage, that their words would anger him so much that he would leap over the table and start attacking them? Probably. Maybe. Or maybe not. Perhaps it was just habit by now, the task of keeping him from rage. 

He let his smile reflect his thoughts, and enjoyed the flutter of panic that crept into Meryl's eyes. Then a veil of shame was drawn over his thoughts, and he wondered why it was so enjoyable to make his brother's wife afraid of him. Or, no, not to make her afraid of him, but to see that fear. To revel in her uneasiness around him. To take pleasure in the fact that she still, after all these years, viewed him as dangerous.

Then she spoke, and he left those thoughts behind.

"So, what are we going to do now?" she asked, forcing a note of brightness into her voice. "Did Mark say anything important? Is she coming back, staying away?"

"She isn't coming back. She has decided that working for the plant, and for the plant-haters, is much more important and enjoyable than anything to do with us." He traced a lazy pattern on the tabletop. "I suspect some murderous plot, with suicide at the end for her. Something big and dramatic to take care of the human's fears."

Vash looked up at him, startled. "Anne? Anne is going to do that?"

Knives lay his hand flat against the table. "I don't know for sure. But it seems likely. Fits her personality quite well. You know she is filled with self-loathing, you know that she has suicided before. It seems likely she has affixed on the fact she is a plant as the focal point for everything that is "wrong" with her, and that if the plants can die, that her evil will be redeemed."

"That's crazy. She didn't look, I mean, she didn't act like that was what she was planning yesterday."

Knives sighed. "I'm afraid that when she learned about Ace and I, well, it sent her a little over the edge. Mark implied that she had been fighting these plans, but that now she just wants to see us all dead." He made sure that his voice was pitched loud enough to carry into the living room, then began to trace patterns on the table again. "Likely, we'll be seeing some actions against us soon." Lie, he traced out, again and again. "Where is Alex? He's in danger as well; he should be here to listen to this."

"He's resting in the bedroom," said Meryl. "I'll go get him."

"Do." Knives looked at his brother, and saw Vash's nod. 

Knives nearly sighed in relief, biting it back only because he didn't want Ace to know what was going on. Vash might not know yet, but he knew that what Knives was saying wasn't the truth. And that the only reason he would be lying now was to fool Ace.

"We are going to follow Anne, as much as we can," he started as soon as Meryl and Alex had returned. "Starting tonight, we're going to find her where she's singing, then follow her to wherever it is she is staying. We need to know what she's doing, and who with. We need to know our enemies."

"Why not just go back to the ship?" asked Ace lazily from the doorway. 

"Our enemies are here, not at the ship. Anne knows how to get in and out of my ship, knows where it is. If we wait and let her plan some way to kill us there it will be much harder to stop her." He shook his head. "No, here is where we need to be, to stop this now. She might begin to harm our sisters in the bulbs before she comes after us as well, and that cannot be allowed."

"I'm not looking for her," Ace said sullenly.

"Fine," agreed Knives, letting a twinge of asperity into his voice. "You just sit here. You do that so well."

"I will," she sniffed, then returned to the living room and flopped down on the couch.

Knives sighed. "Vash. You, Alex, and I will go looking for Anne tonight."

"I can come, too," protested Meryl.

Knives shook his head slowly. "We don't need you with us," he said coldly. 

Vash put a hand on his wife's shoulder. She turned and met his eyes. Vash looked quickly towards Knives, nodded, then said, "We shouldn't leave Ace alone. What if they want to retake her? Anne isn't going to rescue her again."

Meryl looked between the two, slightly bewildered. "I'll do what I can, but, frankly, she's the more dangerous of the two of us."

"Just watch her back, ok?" asked Vash, his eyes pleading with Meryl to stay.

She nodded, slipping one hand up to cover his on her shoulder. "I can do that," she said, beginning to understand just what wasn't being said. "No one is going to get past me," she affirmed, glancing at Knives. 

He nodded, glad that she seemed to understand.


	95. Preparation

Ok, back to Anne.

*******************************************************************************

Anne sighed as she stared at her display. She knew that she should be working, but it was so hard to think. Work paled in her thoughts, no matter what she wanted to do it was overshadowed by yesterday's events. Every time she tried to do her job she just wanted to break out into tears.

Even the thought was ludicrous. Her, cry? Yesterday notwithstanding, she wasn't the sort of person to break into tears just because some guy had decided that he didn't like her anymore. Why, when her husband had served her with divorce papers, she had laughed. Laughed, and surprised the people around her with her unforced gaiety. 

She blinked hard and sniffed, doing her best to keep the tears that threatened from falling. Of course, she had expected him to divorce her had come to terms with the fact that it was going to happen long before she ever was given the papers. The fact that he had tossed her out the back of that plane had been a clue. When she had finally received the papers, her first feeling had been relief, relief that she no longer had to worry about when it was coming.

She sighed once more, then obsessively searched her memories for clues. Surely some had been there, and she had just been willfully blind, had refused to see. The way that Ace always sat near Knives, the hesitancy that they both showed around her, there was ample evidence if she wanted to look for it.

But she didn't want to look, didn't want to see. She wanted it to not be, wanted Ace to be the cute, quietly adorable girl she had left behind. She wanted Knives to be the man she had waited for, the person who would hold her in his arms and tell her that things would be alright.

She looked up at the ceiling so the tears couldn't fall. Just because no one was going to hold her didn't mean that things wouldn't be ok. She would make it through these days, wiser, older, and still alive. Just like every other time life had sucked. There were no guarantees in life, extra-dimensional beings aside. What was, was, and all the tears in the world wouldn't change it. 

Drumming her hands on the edge of her desk, she waited a couple more moments until she was sure that no tears would fall. Then she looked back down and at the clock, then at her still-blank monitor, and decided that even though there were fifteen minutes left in the day, she was leaving. 

Since she hadn't packed anything, hadn't thought beyond just getting out of her apartment, she didn't have anything to perform in. She really needed a dress, a nice one, and she hoped that she could get the one she really wanted before the store closed.

She snuck out of the office, hoping that her boss wouldn't notice, and if she did, that someone higher up would cover for her. This didn't really have anything to do with her being a plant, so she thought it was something of a gray area.

Oh well. Worst they could do would be fire her. Or kill her. Or stick her in a room with Knives and Ace and not let her out. She couldn't help it, she sniffed again, but comforted herself with the thought that no one could be that cruel.

She made it out of the plant with no troubles, then set off to one of the nicer sections of town to do her shopping. There was this one consignment shop that had the perfect dress. She hadn't bought it yet because she couldn't justify getting more than a couple dresses to perform in, especially given how few of those gigs paid. But today there was nothing holding her back, nothing to nudge her conscience and tell her that such largess was wrong. It might just be shopping to relieve her bleak mood, but dammit, she was female, and that's what girls do when they're upset.

A brisk fifteen minute walk, and she was getting to the shop as the proprietor was walking to the door to lock it. Anne slipped in with an apologetic smile and went straight for the dress she wanted.

The lady sighed, then took her place behind the counter. "I suppose it would be to much to ask for you to have arrived just a little sooner?" she asked, more jokingly than crossly.

"I had to sneak out of work as it is," Anne offered as her excuse, slipping over $$45. Her eyes didn't leave the dress as the woman slid it into a bag. She loved the deep red of it, loved how wearing it made her feel. It was a dress to be beautiful in, and she truly needed that tonight. She met the woman's eyes and smiled her gratitude, then left the store, holding the bag close to her chest. 

It was easy to ignore the pain in her heart while she gloated over her purchase. All day long, she had tormented herself with visions of going to buy the dress and having it be gone, and having to purchase the pale green one instead. Not that there was anything wrong with the green one. She looked good in it, looked nice, and respectable. And dowdy.

But this red dress, even the thought of it made her smile. A red ribbon to wind through her hair and just enough lipstick and eyeshadow for the lights to not wash her face out and she would be set. 

Forcefully, she kept her mind on what was coming later that night. A performance was enough to stress over. She hardly needed to keep certain cretins on her mind as well. It wasn't like they were likely to show up, anyway.


	96. Getting ready

*hums* I GET A KNIVES PLUSHIE!!!! *huggles Sami tight* WITH a bell, too. *grins* He's going to be going everywhere with me for awhile.

*******************************************************************************

She made one more quick stop to pick up some makeup, then headed off for their rehearsal spot to pick up her bass. Their gig was supposed to start at six, so she carefully placed her dress and makeup in the case and started lugging it across town. Her patience was unusually thin today, and she silently started cursing the bass before she was even halfway there.

Stupid case, stupid size. Why would anyone need to make an instrument so big, anyway? It wasn't that it was heavy, just awkward. And people stared at you when you carried something so huge. She rolled her eyes and sighed, looking at the sidewalk immediately in front of her so she wouldn't have to meet their eyes. She felt foolish, out of place carrying something so large and obvious. To bad there wasn't a blues piccolo. Or that she couldn't play the harmonica and sing at the same time. They had tried that idea a few months ago, but it had limited their choice of songs too much. So, she was stuck with the bass.

Soon enough she made it to the club. She knocked on the back door and waited for someone to come and open it. As she waited, she checked her watch and cringed. It was already 5:30, and she wasn't dressed, her bass wasn't tuned and no one was opening the door. She knocked again, and kept knocking until she heard someone coming.

It was Tom, the drummer. "Hey, wondered if you were coming. You're almost on time, even," he teased as she slipped past him, accidentally knocking him in the arm with her case.

"Ow," he whined, miming great pain as she stood in the hall and looked for a place to get changed.

"Ladies room is down the hall and to your left. Stow the bass along the wall here and get moving, woman." He swatted her behind as she leaned over to set the case down. She elbowed his shin in return, grabbing her dress and dashing down the hall.

"Don't take too long," he laughed after her. "No time for 'just a few more minutes,' all that ladies stuff they do, 'k?"

She took enough time to spin and stick her tongue out at him, then ducked into the ladies restroom. The dress was easy enough to shimmer into, requiring only enough flexibility to zip up the back. She quickly pulled her hair into a bun, leaving down only a few tendrils to soften the lines of her face. Leaning close to the mirror and wishing that the light were just a bit better, she carefully applied the bright red lipstick and dark brown eyeshadow, then brushed at her eyelashes with mascara until she was fairly sure that the floodlights wouldn't wash her face out. In this light it looked more like clown makeup than anything to make her look pretty, but she knew that just a touch of color wasn't going to be enough tonight.

She tugged at the shoulders of her dress, quickly making sure that it fell right. She stepped forward to pick up her clothes, then paused. 

She had no shoes. And no time to get shoes. She sighed out a soft curse, then looked at her toes, peeking out from under the hem of her floor length dress. She sighed again, mind racing through options, then folded her shirt and pants and entered the halls again. She placed her clothes by the side of her case, then stopped Dawn as she went by.

"I need a stool," she demanded.

She nodded, distracted, then went off towards the front of the place. She hoped that she had actually heard her, but didn't have time to follow after her and make sure that she had listened.

Instead, she took her bass out of its case and started tightening the strings, tuning it by ear until it was ready to be played. When they had started playing together Dawn had been certain that no one could tune something accurately her way, but after comparing her bass to the piano multiple times, she had been convinced that Anne did actually have a good sense of pitch. Finally, at 5:56, she was ready. She sighed, brushed at her shoulders and hair, tugged at the dress again, wiggled her toes, rolled her eyes, then went out on stage. She wished that she had enough time to be nervous, but time had run out.

Someone in the club wolf-whistled as she walked on, and she didn't suppress her smile. She turned out and looked, wondering if she could see who it was, but the lights were too bright for her to see anyone out there. It was probably Tom, she decided as she took up her place on her stool, tucking her feel decorously under the edge of her skirt so her toes wouldn't show. He was always such a tease.

She grabbed the mike and adjusted it until it was at just the right spot, then moved the bass around on her lap until her hands fit comfortably around the neck and the body. While she situated herself, Tom took up his place at the drums and Dawn her place at the piano.

Tom started, picking out a rhythm, repeating it after a few measures. Dawn came in next, picking out a melodic line, and then Anne found her place, harmonizing and adding depth to the sound. They warmed up for a few minutes, just playing to play, then Dawn started hinting at the first few bars to one of their songs. Tom adjusted to the beat, and Anne to her place, and off they went.


	97. In the bar

Am I drawing this out? Just to be evil? Nah. Not meeeeee.

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Mark sighed and sat back further in his seat. He picked up his beer and contemplated taking another swig, but set it down again untasted. Instead, he let his eyes roam the interior of the room, his gaze take in the shadowed bar and the deeper shadows that lurked in the corners. He couldn't see anyone well enough to make them out and it made him antsy. The only clue for him that there were more people in the room was the level of ambient noise and half-unseen shapes he caught in the corner of his eye.

Of course, he was sitting close to the stage, and that was playing merry hell with his night vision, but still. It was obnoxious.

He picked up his beer again, this time downing the last couple swallows. He set the empty bottle down and made vague motions towards the bar, hoping that someone saw him and he wasn't just making a fool of himself.

He turned and looked at Anne again. She looked so intent up on stage, her hands playing over the strings, her head bent over the instrument when she wasn't singing. There was that little furrow of concentration on her brow, the one she got when she was trying too hard. They finished up the song they were playing, and he clapped half-heartedly. They were so much better when she was less self-conscious, he thought.

Someone came by carrying a couple bottles, and he turned to pay. 

Then was slightly shocked.

"W-why, hello, Mr. Herman," he stammered out. His boss had shucked the three piece suit and tie for jeans and a rumpled button-down shirt, but he still looked slightly out of place. It came from him being one of the Lost Ship members; they never got over their unease around people they didn't know. So Mark wasn't surprised that he took a seat at his table. Just surprised that he was in the bar at all. And that he had clothes other than a three piece suit.

"Just Jeremy," he said, placing one of the bottles before Mark. He looked younger here than he did in his office, and Mark could decide if it was the lighting or the more relaxed atmosphere. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, hoping that his voice didn't carry onto stage.

"I thought I would see for myself the little prodigal. A singing plant; who would have thought." His gaze flicked to Anne then back to Mark. "Someone needs to keep an eye on her, and so far you've not been doing the best of jobs."

Mark sighed and looked at the table. "She was just out getting that dress, sir."

"Are you sure?"

"She didn't have any clothes with her when she left her apartment, and I know that she hadn't bought that dress weekend before last."

"Are you sure that she got it now? That the dress is all she bought?"

"Pretty sure."

"We can't take pretty sure to the council. We need to know what she's up to, and that means you need to take better care to go where she does, and when she does."

"Yes, sir."

Jeremy sat back in his seat and looked up at the stage for a moment. "She looks very nice up there," he commented.

And she did. The red of the dress, coupled with the lights on the stage, brought out red highlights in her hair, made it look like she was a fire sprite. The dress was sleeveless, the better to let her move to work the instrument. The neck was high in the front, decorously covering her collarbones, but the back was open to her waist. The expanse of flesh that was shown was pale white, the better to contrast with the dress. The skirt was of the same fabric, but covered with a black lace that muted the shimmer of the bodice. All told, she looked lovely.

After a song, Jeremy sighed. "I looked over one of those apples you brought in. It was healthier than we have been able to produce in the greenhouses, and you say that it was from an open air grove?"

"It was."

"And she made it?"

"She claims to have, and I see no reason to doubt her word. She was very easy there, very used to the place."

Jeremy sighed, then cautiously introduced a touchy subject. "I know you like the woman. She seems rather admirable. But we need more than an apple to convince the council that she, that they should live. I need more than an apple."

"They can heal."

"So they can. And I must admit that weighs heavily in their favor. The only problem is, they can, but will they?"

"You will need to ask her that."

"I know. But do I trust her to give me the truth? What's to stop her from running off when her part in this project is over?"

"I don't know. She said that she wants to terraform Gunsmoke."

"Useful. No doubt that the planet could be made more hospitable. But we've been working towards the same goal. Why would we need plants to do it for us?"

"You said it yourself, sir. Her apple is healthier than any we have." Mark paused, then ventured something he had been pondering before his boss joined him. "Perhaps we are looking at this the wrong way."

His boss looked at him sharply, but motioned for him to continue. "Instead of finding reasons to validate their existence, perhaps we should be looking for reasons to kill them."

Jeremy looked at him oddly. "I think we have the reasons we need."

"For Knives, yes. But Vash? Alex? Anne? What have they done?"

"Vash is the humanoid typhoon. You might remember that."

"And what trouble has he caused in the past couple decades? Now that no one is pursuing him?"

Jeremy sighed. "Whose side are you on, Mark?" he asked bluntly.

Mark thought for a moment, then looked at the woman singing on stage. "I wish I knew, sir."


	98. In the city

Hey, look, brand new POV!

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Alex was in a slightly pensive mood. Knives had told them what Ace had done, let then hear what she had said. Neither he nor Vash were as surprised as Knives had been, but then again, neither of them had been as close to Ace as he was. It gave them a little more perspective. And not to be one to remember slights long past when they should be forgotten and forgiven, Alex just didn't like her. And the feeling seemed to be mutual. 

Ok, fine. He was holding a grudge. And it was a silly grudge, but it irked him how easy it was for her to pull Knives away any time the two of them happened to be alone together. He almost never got to spend any time with his uncle, just the two of them. 

Alex scuffed his toes in the dust. Knives was always so clueless about it, too. As soon as they got started on a project, or a movie, or even when he was lots younger and Knives tried to read to him, she would always show up. Then she would either pull him away, or stick around and make a nuisance of herself, falling all over Knives and hogging all his attention. 

He didn't know why Ace felt she had to make sure that he and Knives never spent time together. It wasn't like he was trying to take her place as the baby of the group, or do anything to come between her and Knives. No, he had always felt that Ace had decided that Knives was hers, and that she had no need to share. Like he was a toy, or something.

And Knives was so blind.

He looked up and could barely make out the stars through the light haze. Mom always said that Knives was just a bit clueless, that he didn't know how to interact with other people, that he didn't know that his behavior was hurtful. But he had heard her one time, talking to dad when she didn't know he was awake, and she had remarked that it surprised her that Knives could be so blind.

Dad had said something about it being a willful blindness, that he wanted everything to be perfect so badly that he would ignore all but the most unsubtle clues that there was anything wrong. Mom had huffed and called that typical, and he had decided to lot let it bother him too much.

He shot a glance at his uncle out of the corner of his eye. Guess that last clue had been unsubtle enough, finally. 

They paused to pay the cover to the place that Anne was playing, then filed in, Vash first, followed by his brother, with Alex last and most reluctant to enter. The city was so big, and so new, and so very full of people. And it was a whole lot darker than the ship, and that bothered him. Life should be well lit, and with all the lights he saw in the city he wondered why there where still so many shadows. The door before him opened into a dark maw, the venue shadowed from the street. He didn't know what to expect from the room, and that made him a bit antsy.

So it threw him a little more when he stumbled into his uncle's back. Suddenly worrying, he craned his head about and saw that Knives was transfixed by the vision of Anne onstage. Alex took advantage of the pause to look over the room, and he relaxed when he saw how nice and uncrowded it was. 

He pushed past his uncle and remarked sotto voice, "Wipe the drool, Knives. It's very embarrassing."

He was rewarded by getting to see his uncle start, then glare at him. Alex smiled at him, then pointed after his dad's retreating form. Knives and he made their way through the room to the table Vash had chosen. It was back near the wall, not quite in a corner, but it gave one a good view of the room. Alex wondered if his dad had picked it to assuage his brother's paranoia or his son's curiosity.

After a moment's reflection, he decided it was both.

A waitress came over. Vash and Knives both ordered a beer, but Alex decided that he should just have water. The strangeness of this place was already getting on his nerves a bit, and he didn't need the added distraction of alcohol.

While looking about the room, he noticed Mark sitting and talking with another man. They seemed to know each other well enough. Alex debated going over there and talking with them, then finally decided to. He pointed to them and waited for his father's nod, then wended his way through the tables to get to them.

"Hi, Mark," he said as he took a seat. He was left with his back to the stage, but that was ok. He didn't need to see Anne look pretty. The way Knives was staring at her filled the quota for the three of them.

"Well, hello, Alex," said Mark, looking slightly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Plotting against Ace," he responded deadpan. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jeremy Herman, my boss," he said stressing the last word. "Mr. Herman, this is Alex--" he paused, searching for a surname.

Alex waved his hand in the air dismissively. "I'll adopt my dad's last name when he decides what one he wants."

"Isn't he the Stampede?" asked Mark's boss.

Alex shrugged. "Not really. And I'd be more Alex the Ambling, anyway. I'm not quite as exuberant as my dad."

"Remarkable," said Jeremy, but not to Alex. "You say he's Strife's boy?"

"He is," affirmed Mark.

"Remarkable," he repeated, then turned to stare at Alex again. "So you're the half-plant."

"No, sir, I'm the all-plant. The genes that differentiate between you and I were all designed to be dominant traits."

"Which explains why you look so much like your father."

"Yes, sir." Alex looked at Mark pleadingly, and wondered if he was going to be subjected to questioning all night.

Mark shrugged and smiled, but turned to ask his boss something about his wife.


	99. Vash drinks

*jingle jingle jingle* *grin grin grin*

*******************************************************************************

Knives sat and stared at Anne, listening to every word she sang with a rapt attention that made his brother slightly uncomfortable. Vash tried to talk to Knives, tried to entice him into some type of conversation but all he got back from his brother were monosyllabic replies. Finally, Vash decided that despite appearances his brother wasn't really at the same table, and sat back to nurse his beer and keep an eye on his son. 

Vash was alternately glad and worried over his son's behavior. He was glad that despite his sheltered upbringing Alex seemed to be outgoing. Watching him sit and talk with Mark and that other man made Vash smile, their animated conversation telling him volumes even though he couldn't hear their words.

Whoever Mark's friend was, he hadn't been too excited to have Alex join them in the beginning. His body language had been very uncomfortable, but after only a few minutes he seemed to have warmed to the boy. And Mark seemed to be having a decent time. He looked rather amused, at least. 

Vash watched them a few minutes more. He liked Mark, thought that he seemed a decent enough guy. He liked the way that he kept glancing up at Anne, the way that he kept an eye on her not as a keeper, but as a friend. A friend who rather obviously wanted to be more than just a friend, but he didn't push, didn't force Anne to do anything that she didn't want to.

Vash sighed quietly, wishing that the man was just a bit less of a bigot. For all that he liked the man, he couldn't forget that he was currently their ambivalent enemy. Maybe fighting against them, maybe their friend, or maybe he would decide to abstain from whatever his bosses decided, but seeing him sit there was just another reminder that his life could never be normal, never be peaceful.

The thought that people could hate him because he was a plant turned his stomach, and he quickly gulped down the rest of his beer, hoping that the alcohol could dull the pain. He didn't want to be hated, didn't want anything more than to just be left alone to live with the ones he loved. 

He wasn't a monster. 

The thought that people could be, no, that people were frightened of him made him very uneasy. That they feared him, that they hated him, cut deep. He left Knives at the table and went to get another drink. 

In a way, he was glad for the respite, glad that no one was paying attention to him. Too much was going on for anyone to need to worry about him, and it really was only a little depression. He was equally glad to be away from his wife for the moment. Much as he loved Meryl, she would never let him brood. He smiled a bit, recalling her favorite argument for times like this one. 

If she could love him, anyone could. 

Then the smile faded, and he ordered another beer. He never could figure out why she loved him, why she stayed with him after all these years, after all the pain and heartache he had put her through. It wasn't like he was any great catch; he was no one she could take home to her parents and proudly show off. One broken-down ex-gunslinger, an outlaw with a staggeringly large bounty. He rubbed at the grate on his chest as he made his way back to the table. A woman like her could have a pick of all the men in town. He saw how other guys looked after her, even now, and knew that if she ever came to her senses and left him that she wouldn't have to be alone for long.

He looked at Alex, the living proof of their time together, and he sighed. Then he looked a little more closely at that table, and deserted his brother again.

"Jeremy?" he asked as he got a little closer. "Jeremy, is that you?"

"Hello, Vash," he said calmly.

"What are you doing here? It sure is a small world, isn't it?" Vash nodded to himself and sat down at the last seat. "Do you two know each other well?" he asked as he pointed to Mark and then to Jeremy.

"He's my boss," said Mark.

"Oh!" said Vash perkily, then he repeated the syllable more morosely when he remembered who Mark worked for. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and looked at Jeremy calmly. "You're the one who wants to kill us."

He put his hands out in a shrug. "It's nothing personal. You're just too powerful to be safe."

"It's very personal to me," Vash muttered. 

Alex rolled his eyes and plucked away the beer from in front of Vash and set it on the table behind him. His father looked up, hurt evident in his eyes, but Alex just shook his head. "You'll start singing, next, and you're nowhere near as good as Anne is," he commented.

Vash hung his head, then looked around the table. "So… what are we talking about?" he asked.

"What plants can do," chirped Alex. 

Vash got a queasy look on his face and quickly shifted his gaze to the table. "Do… like… Anne's tricks?" he fumbled out.

"Much like," Jeremy affirmed.

Vash squirmed in his chair a bit. "Why do you want to know about that stuff?" he asked as one finger made patterns on the table.

"Because power untempered by responsibility is dangerous. Power used for the common good is less so."

"I'm responsible!" Vash protested. "Very responsible. A father even."

"Responsible with the power that has been granted to you? That has yet to be proven," Jeremy said softly.

Vash hunched his shoulders a little but didn't reply. He didn't want power, would get rid of it if he could. But no one ever seemed to care about that.


	100. The end of the singing

Wow. 100 chapters. It amazes me.

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Knives shifted in his seat a bit, the hard chair uncomfortable after so long. It was nearly painful to sit here, but not because of the furniture. Having to sit and watch Anne, having her be so close and yet still not know that he was here was more torture than any mere physical pain. He wanted to rush up there and pull her off into somewhere private, somewhere safe, and tell her what he had learned, make her realize that he wanted her.

Her songs she sang were pretty, in their own way. Full of pain and heartache, saying that life is unfair but still goes on, he wondered if the fact that their message pained him was an accident. It was hubris to think so, to think that she would devote her life, her hobby to singing about him, but he wondered. 

Sure, they sounded as if they had practiced these songs. Indeed, they must have begun singing them long before he ever had the chance to leave the ship and chase after Anne. But had she foreseen that a day like this one would come? A day where she could sing these practiced songs like barbs to pierce his soul?

Perhaps she had planned for him to stop loving her. Perhaps this was all her fault, that she was so ready to accept that his affection might have waned that anything he could have done while she was gone would be enough for her to leave him. Ace might have been just a pretense, a handy excuse to leave.

He leaned back in his chair and pondered the possibility while he watched her. There was no denying that she looked lovely up there. Truth be told, he had been a bit dismayed to see that she had put on a bit of weight in the past few years. The high cheekbones that his fingers had ached to trace were covered under a thin layer of fat. The shoulders that had been sleekly muscled were now slightly rounded, and he had wondered why she had let herself go so far. But seeing her now, what had bothered him before was shadowed by how well she filled out that dress. 

She would not have looked good in it a few years ago. Instead of filling out the bodice, it would have lain much more limply against her chest. Instead of the soft draping around her hips it would have hung straight to the floor. Instead of looking like a woman she would have seemed a girl playing in her mother's clothes. 

No, she looked like a woman now, and seeing her like this he wondered how he could have ever preferred her skinnier. His hands ached to trace the new curves of her body, to see how what he had adored before had blossomed into the vision before him. 

A quick glance about the room and he saw other men noticing her beauty. A stab of jealousy tore through his heart, and his hands clenched into fists. Forcibly he relaxed them, pushed away the desire to throttle anyone who looked at his woman like that. Drooling fools, the lot of them. Eyes narrowed, he searched them for any clue that they might be harboring some ambition to get to know her better, then shrugged and purposefully eased the tension from his back. Anne would not have any of them. Boys, mere children, the lot of them, wishing after something that they could never have.

His gaze was then drawn to Mark. Reluctantly, he concluded that if any man here was his rival, it was this human. The desire to throttle this enemy lingered in his fingertips, but he forced it away. Her friend. The one she ran to when she ran away from home. The man who had been here, with her, for all the years that he couldn't be. He knew that the man liked Anne. And that she liked him in return. 

But did she like him enough to fall into his arms? His bed? To turn away from him and to this crawling worm of a human? He stared at the back of Mark's head and imagined it exploding with the heat of his ire. Who had ever told this man that he could be permitted such liberties with someone so far above his station? Mark kept darting glances Anne's way, and it sickened him. 

He turned his attention away from the worm and back to Anne. She had paused in her singing to take a few swallows of water, and then she spoke. 

"Thank you for being such a wonderful audience," she began. "As always, we're going to finish up with the song we started with, the song that made us as a band. It's an old tune, but so are all the ones we play. Age doesn't diminish the sentiment or the melody, and time just shows us that both love and loss are eternal. To all of us who wait for someone who isn't here, for a loved one who has turned to the arms of another, this song is for you." She smiled wryly, and more softly added, "And me." Then she began to sing.

__

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, 

I dreamed I held you in my arms, 

But when I woke, dear, I was mistaken, 

And I hung my head and I cried.

I'll always love you and make you happy 

If you will only say the same, 

But if you leave me and love another, 

You'll regret it all someday.

You told me once dear, you really loved me, 

And no one could come between, 

But now you've left me to love another, 

You have shattered all of my dreams.

In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me,

When I awake my poor heart aches

So won't you come back and make me happy

I'll forgive, dear, I'll take all the blame.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, 

You make me happy when skies are gray, 

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, 

Please don't take my sunshine away.

Then they band stood, bowed to a scattering of applause and some whistling from Alex, and left the stage. Knives was left to wonder if that last song was meant for him, and if it was, just what he was supposed to do now.


	101. Talking about Knives

I got my first Christmas tree for all-by-myself-ness! Mmm, smells yummy!

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After the band had left the stage, Mark begged his leave from the table and ambled backstage. He was in time to watch Anne put her shoes on, and smiled slightly as he realized what the hem of her dress had hidden.

"Forget something?" he teased lightly, and she looked up and grinned at him. 

"Seems like I'm forgetting everything today," she said wryly.

"Like the fact that you are supposed to wait for me?"

Her eyes went wide, then she nodded and did her best to look chagrined. "Sorry, Mark. I forgot. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

He laughed. "You could be just a bit preoccupied."

She forced a laugh in return. "With Knives? I've hardly thought of him all day."

"You've hardly thought of anything all day, you've been so intent about not thinking about him. Look, he was the first thing you assumed I was talking about."

She waved her hands at him. "Oh, and what else am I supposed to assume you would think I was thinking about?"

"Oh, I dunno. This gig, maybe?"

She sighed, then shrugged. A pensive moment passed, then she brightened up. "So, how were we? Were we any good? I think we did alright, and look!" She pulled out a tiny wad of cash. "See? We got paid!"

"Now you can pay your storage bill," he said calmly, then broke into a grin. "You guys were great."

"You're just saying that." She stood, finally done shoeing herself, and passed a round container over to him. "If you have to follow me, you get to carry the cymbals." 

"But what if I wanted to help Tom out with his load?"

"Too bad." She hefted her bass, then waved to Dawn as she walked out the back. "See you at practice this weekend," she said as she backed out the door.

"You sure you're still going to have time for the band?" asked Mark quietly as they slipped into the alley.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked, then shrugged. "It shouldn't take me that long to find a new apartment."

"That's it? That's your answer? Just pretend that they all don't exist?"

She shrugged again. "What do you suggest I do, Mark? Go back and pretend that I can stomach what Ace and Knives are doing? I'm not that good a liar."

Mark looked up and down the street as they entered it, then shrugged slightly in response to her question. "What about Vash, and Alex? Or Meryl? You going to just walk out of their lives?"

"They barely know me; it's not like they would miss me."

"So, you're going to go to the council and say that all the little plants need to be saved, but please don't make me talk to them? We're all great humanitarians and I can't stand the rest of them?"

Anne scowled. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"Don't you? Doesn't it look a little odd, you trying, no, almost begging to save their lives, and you don't want anything to do with the lot of them? Don't you think the council is going to wonder about that?"

"What, that I may not like them, but I don't think that they deserve death?" She sighed. "Mark. I'm going to likely live an awful long time, and probably in the future will have no problem being friendly. Vash is a great guy, and Alex seems to be a good kid, but I just can't be around them right now, not because of who they are, but because they look too much like him."

"Like Knives."

She nodded slowly. "That's just not something I can bear to see. I'm human, Mark, and right now it feels like someone has been rubbing at my soul with broken slivers of glass. I was a fool to trust him enough to love him," she finished up softly.

"He was betrayed, too," Mark argued.

Anne snorted. "Oh, like that makes me feel any better. Sure, Ace says she used him, but he let himself be used. I refuse to feel sorry for him. Not even a tiny little bit. He deserves all the betrayal that she'll hand him."

"That's calm and forgiving of you."

"Please, Mark. I'm not a bloody saint. Let the bastard suffer a bit. Why should I be the only one?"

"I thought you said you weren't thinking about him."

"I'm not. You're the one who started this conversation," she whined.

"Ignoring things won't make them go away," he pointed out.

"But they'll seem to be away. Right now the seeming is enough for me."

"So you aren't going to think about Knives at all."

"Not in the slightest."

"You aren't going to miss him?"

"Can't, if I'm not thinking about him."

"Not going to respond to him in the slightest little way?"

"How could I?"

He shrugged. "You did tonight."

She froze. "I did not. He wasn't there."

"He, Vash, Alex, and Mr. Herman."

"No."

"And when Knives entered the room, that little worry wrinkle you get between your eyes went away and the music got really good."

"They were not there."

"Knives spent the entire night just staring at you. Vash and Alex were explaining to Mr. Herman how you do some of your magic."

"They weren't there."

"Vash was trying to drink a bit, but Alex wouldn't let him."

"They so were not there."

"They were there, Anne," Mark said softly.

Anne stopped and had to use the wall of a building to keep her on her feet. Mark grabbed her bass as it slipped from fingers gone lax. "I feel like a fool," she said softly. "They were there, listening to me?"

"You did a good job, Anne."

"I did a horrible job. And they heard it. Knives heard it. Heard me sing." She moaned softly. "He's going to think I was singing all about him."

"Weren't you?"

"Our play list is blues songs, Mark." Then she sighed, and continued less sharply, "But tonight it was a bit about him. He's just so self-centered that he's going to assume more than I want to say to him."

"What, that you miss him? That you have missed him?"

Anne straightened and reclaimed her bass. "No. That I want him back."


	102. More talking about Knives

Angst!

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Mark put a hand on her shoulder to stop her as she began to walk forward. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that this is it? That you mooned over him for the past three years, he shows up, and that's it?"

She shrugged and pushed his hand off her shoulder. "What am I supposed to do, Mark? Pretend that it's fine with me that he went off and had another relationship? That I don't mind that he ditched me as soon as I wasn't around? That I'm supposed to just stand around and always be there for him if he decides that he wants to be with me for the moment?"

"Is that how you see all of this? You were crying your heart out yesterday, and now you're willing to just write him out of your life?"

She shrugged. "So?"

"That's not right. It's not a healthy response."

"Sure it is. I've been trained to mourn quickly, if at all. I don't need much time to get back to normal."

"Which is why you've been acting a bit oddly today? This is normal."

She sighed. "So I'm not normal quite yet. Just give me a few more days and I'll be fine."

He stared at her. "How can you do that? How can you fight so hard to make sure that Effie and I stay your friends, but be able to walk away from the one you love? Did you not really love him, or are you just so easily able to cut out a piece of your heart?"

Anne looked at her feet. "It's a skill." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "It's one you learn when people always betray you."

Mark sighed and they both started walking again. "So you just don't want to be hurt by him again, is that it?"

"Pretty much. Am I supposed to believe that he's changed any? I waited for him, and he didn't wait for me. Seems a simple little problem, but then who's likely to have the majority of control in the relationship? The one who cares the least, generally, sadly. And do I really want to put myself in a position where I care more? Where Knives can do all he wants, be the manipulative bastard he is, just because I want him so badly it makes my heart hurt?"

"Oh." Mark paused. "So you do still want him."

"No. Yes. No. I mean…" She stopped and started over. "If I had any reason to believe that he might change, that he could love me nearly as much as I love him, then I would be in his arms in an instant. But the man is, I mean, he's just so aggravating. He has no idea how to be in a relationship. I mean, he's been in what, two now?" She paused, then muttered, "Two," and scowled, then composed herself and continued. "He's selfish and self-centered, and if I know him at all, I can predict exactly what he's thinking right now."

"What's that?"

"He's trying to find a way that makes all of this not his fault. He's going to think everything through so carefully, starting with the second I arrived in his ship and ending with when he found out that Ace is manipulating him, and he is going to figure out how he was the one who was betrayed. The man refuses to feel guilt, refuses to believe that he can do wrong. He's not just a perfectionist, no, that doesn't even begin to encompass the scope of his delusion. He's so intent on being perfect that he just cannot comprehend that he's human. Which leads into why he is able to be such a sociopath, but that's a minor digression I don't want to get into right now. And why are we talking about Knives? How did you get me to do this?"

"Do what?"

"Say so much. I don't want to think about him, don't want to try to understand him."

"Why not?"

"Because," she scowled again, "what about my pain? I don't want to figure out what makes Knives cruel. Then I'm going to feel sorry for him, or look for a way to fix him, and I don't want to do that. One, it's not healthy. I am not supposed to be his therapist. Two, what about my pain? I'm hurting, here," she almost wailed. "I don't want to think that he's hurt, too. He hurt me first, and dammit, part of me thinks he deserves what he gets."

"Only part of you?"

"I'm not a saint, Mark." She fumbled with the door to the storage place then entered. "A not entirely small part of me wants him to hurt as much as I'm hurting now."

"I don't blame you."

"Good." She sighed, and looked at the wall. "He was watching me the entire time?"

"Like he couldn't get enough of seeing you."

She sighed again, then sniffed. "I shouldn't think about him. I should just stop." She turned to look at Mark, one unheeded tear tracing its way slowly down her cheek. "Why can't I stop?"

He sighed and stepped forward, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Because you love him."

"Why can't I stop? I want to, but it's so hard."

"It should be." He slipped his arms around her shoulders and drew her close, offering only comfort.

"This always happens to me. No one ever loves me forever." She sniffed and pushed out of the embrace, plastering a smile on her face. "Love is just overrated, I guess," she said as she slipped around him and out of the room.

Mark grabbed for the bag of clothes she had forgotten and followed her into the hall, shaking his head as he thought. He tried to catch her eye and offer comfort, but she had fallen back into her shell of indifference, and he gave up trying as they went back to his aunt's home.


	103. A stalker

I finally went out and bought the CD that has the song that Kiley sang in the first story. If you'd like me to send it to you in an mp3, just let me know.

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At the bar, Knives had parted company with the other two men. They had remained to speak with Mr. Herman a bit longer, whereas Knives had decided to shadow Anne and Mark for a bit. If he stayed behind, he figured that his presence would more likely harm then help. Plus, he was much more concerned with what Anne was up to than he was with pacifying the humans.

He followed close enough to listen in on what the two were saying, and he didn't really like what he had gotten to hear. How dare she pretend that she was the only wounded party? She was the one who had lied, who had run away and trapped him in the ship. For all her protestations that it was not supposed to have taken then three years to get out of the trap she had set, she was the one who had never come back. She was the only one who had the freedom to choose what she was going to do, and she had chosen to stay away.

He scowled as he walked, concentrating more on staying close enough to hear them then he was on where he was going. The result of that was that he took a corner a bit too close and smacked his shoulder against the side of a building. The pain made his eyes water, but he bit back the yelp that threatened to give him away. He rubbed at his nose, then ducked behind a building as they stopped to converse. 

His heart skipped a beat when he heard her say that she didn't want him back. Instantly, his mind raced, becoming more and more agitated with each passing thought. How dare she not? How dare she make such a fuss over he and Ace, then be able to turn her heart away from him so quickly? How dare she pretend that he wasn't going to want him?

Then he heard her sniveling, and his heart resumed its function. Ah, she was just in denial. 

That was allowed.

They began to move again, but Knives paused for a second to let his heartbeat return to something more approximating normal before he attempted to walk. Then he crept out after them, eavesdropping on all he could hear, but he missed out on whatever had been said when they went into the building.

Her demeanor had changed when she exited, and he barely kept himself from hitting something in his frustration. She was back to her stony silence, and he was left to wonder what had occurred. What had he said, what had she said? Was she trying to pretend that things between them were over once more?

Slipping along behind them, he followed them out of the heart of December and into a more residential region. Anne and Mark entered a fairly nondescript house, and after a few minutes Knives emerged to stand outside the white picket fence that marked the line to keep the world out and the family in. Jumping the fence, he softly crept closer to the windows and peered in, watching Anne and trying to listen to what she was saying. She seemed to be talking to the old woman, explaining about plants and their function.

Knives snorted softly at the ignorance of humans. Ever since the great fall, the knowledge possessed by each generation had grown increasingly smaller. From the gods that had bent space and time to travel from earth, had bent the building blocks of life to work their will, now all that was left were these pathetic specimens, these fools who could barely comprehend the wonders that their ancestors had wrought.

He ended up sitting in the shadow of the porch for almost an hour, just listening to the soft rise and fall of Anne's voice as she explained the facts of life. The night grew cool, but he didn't let that bother him overmuch. The house was warm against his back, and the moons were bright in the sky above. Since his options were rather limited, and included having to go back to the apartment and stomach Ace's lies and deceptions, the cold didn't seem so bad.

Finally the house prepared for bed. He heard water running through the pipes, heard the soft sounds of sleepiness, doors closing gently and drawers sliding shut. After all traces of sound had eased, and had ceased for over half an hour, he left his shadowed perch and circled the house, looking for Anne's room. 

It was on the second floor, overlooking the front porch, and quite luckily, the small roof that covered the porch. He cautiously and quietly climbed up to her window and shimmied it up, climbing carefully inside the room, then looking over her still form. The red dress lay crumpled in a pile at the foot of the bed, and he wondered what she wore underneath the sheets so decorously tucked under her chin.

He sat there and stared at her for minutes uncounted, eyes feasting on the still form that he could never get enough of. It made her uncomfortable to be stared at, he knew that. The only time he could let his eyes feast to repletion was when she rested, and this was the first chance he had been given since released from his ship. It had been years, and she had changed so much. So much, and yet so little.

Finally, just looking at her was no longer enough. Gingerly, he sat at the head of her bed and let one finger trace the outline of her cheek. The soft skin of her face slipped by, cheek, eyelid, the curve of her nose, the outline of her lips. 

A sigh escaped him, a soft exhalation barely louder than his breath, but it was enough. The long lashes flitted up, and she spoke.

"Seen enough to be happy?" she whispered sardonically.

"No," he replied, not willing to be affected by her ill-temper. 


	104. Sweet somethings

All together now: Awwwww….

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Knives knew that there was only one thing to say that would soften her heart towards him. The only trouble was in forcing the words past his throat in a manner that didn't sound like he was having to push them out. While waiting for his body to adapt to the necessity, his hand reached up and started to stroke her hair.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong," he said after a couple minutes, the words finally slipping past his lips easily. He was proud of that.

Anne opened her mouth to retort, something biting no doubt, but then it registered on her what he said. She blinked a couple times and pushed herself to sit up, then asked, "Excuse me?"

"I was wrong. I'm sorry."

She was quiet for a moment, then glared at him. "You're just saying that so I can't be mad at you."

He felt that was obvious, but wasn't fool enough to say so.

She continued to glare at him, and he continued to stroke her hair, unperturbed. Finally her stare melted, and she leaned in against his shoulder. "Why?" she asked, her voice hitching on the single syllable.

He pushed his way a little farther onto the bed before replying. "Many reasons, but none of them very good ones."

She sighed and gently nudged his ribs. Correctly interpreting this gesture as a means to let him know he was to continue or else, he echoed her sigh and began to list them. "First off, it was convenient. She was there, and I was there, and she seemed to be enjoying herself. It was easy to let her try to fill that place that you created, then deserted. And if I wasn't entirely happy, well, I was content with Ace, and contentment is not an entirely bad thing. It's certainly easier than trying to be as happy as I was with you about."

"Then, her being a plant made things easier." Anne stiffened against him, and he sighed again. "No. Not for that. Because she isn't going to grow old and die on me. I don't think I could bear having you and watching you grow old, only to leave me to live my life alone again when you finally left this one. Much easier to settle for something that demands less of me, that doesn't hold as much of my heart as you do.

"Ace is easier to like. She makes herself so, desiring nothing more of me than all my company and my bed. You sit here and demand that I conform to your standards of behavior, that I need to change to be worthy of you, but she never did. She took me for what I was, and that was enough for her."

"Was it enough for you?" Anne asked quietly.

"I was content. But not happy. Ace could never make me happy. You can. You do. There is only one woman on the planet that I adore, that I desire beyond all others, no matter how convenient they may be. You."

She sniggled closer to him, burying her face in his chest. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"For what?" he asked, keeping the tinge of humor he felt from the words.

"I should have come back. I shouldn't have left for so long."

"You should have, yes."

Her shoulders shook a little as she continued. "I just couldn't, Knives. You know how I said that the plants are dying? The reason I gave for staying here? Well, I didn't tell you that one of the plants died while I was researching." She paused and took in one shaky breath. "I felt her die. She just gave up, just slipped away. I see her corpse floating in the bulb, and it sickens me. But even worse, when she died, the load on the others increased. They were all going to die off, Knives. They were all going to give up, and I had to promise to them that I would make things better. If I left, if things went wrong when I was away, if something happened and they all died, it would have been all my fault. How could I risk that? How could I risk having all their deaths on my conscience? And what if you didn't want me when I came back? What if I had risked all of that for nothing?

"I was hoping to maybe come and visit after the trial. If it worked, if it eased the burden from the plants like it is supposed to, then I could leave them with hope and they wouldn't die while I was gone." She stopped and looked up at him. "I never meant to lie to you. I didn't know I was a plant until the day Meryl shot me. And then it seemed like a bad time to just blurt it out."

"You should have said something."

"Why? What difference should it make?"

"None. Everything. I don't want to have you and hold you for such a short time. I couldn't. Vash may be strong enough to love Meryl and still survive her passing, but I don't think I can love you and live if you die on me."

She looked up at him, startled. "You said it."

"Said what?"

A smile crept across her face, lighting her eyes. "That you love me."

"Did you need to hear me say it to believe it?"

"It's something no woman can ever hear enough of, as long as it's true."

"I love you." He leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips. "Haven't you been listening? That was the whole problem in the first place. It's not safe to feel this way about anyone."

She kissed him back, then pulled away and, with a twinkle in her eye, said, "Life isn't safe, Knives, no matter how much we want it to be."

"I know. I'm here, aren't I? Even with no promises, I came after you."

"I knew you would. And then when I finally started to doubt, to think that maybe you had gotten tired of chasing after me, here you are." And she kissed him again.


	105. What about Ace?

Kawaii…..

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A comfortable hush had fallen over the room, the two of them more than just content to lie in each other's arms. They sat together in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the presence of the other, enjoying that they were finally free of secrets before Anne carefully ventured a question. "What are we going to do about Ace?"

"Nothing. I see no need to tell her about tonight."

Anne pushed off his chest and looked up at him. "You can't be serious."

"What do we gain by telling her that her game is over? She seems to be a little unhinged, and telling her that we have patched things up between us isn't likely to do her any good."

"So we're supposed to lie to her because it's better than telling her the truth?"

"Well… yes."

"Well… no," she echoed. "It might make things easier today, and tomorrow, but what about when she finds out? How much worse do you think it's going to be if she finds out that we've been lying to her?"

"It's for her own good."

"That only makes it worse."

"Then what do you propose we do?" he asked, asperity tingeing his voice. "Tell her, and have her go crazy on us?"

"Do you think she'll do that?"

"It's likely. Ace isn't very stable. Finding her plans thwarted might not be good for her mental health."

They've already been thwarted. It's the telling her the truth part that's the problem, and it shouldn't be." Anne shifted her weight on the bed, ending up closer to Knives. "The truth shouldn't be a problem."

"That's why you're such a paragon of disclosure."

She scowled. "I'm not a paragon of anything. But just because I've screwed up before doesn't mean I want to continue doing the worst thing possible in any given situation."

"And you think that protecting Ace from the truth is the worst possible thing we can do?"

"I-- No. It's not the worst possible thing. But it's not the best. She needs to learn that she can't just do whatever she pleases, especially when her only aim is to hurt someone."

"And you see her and I together as hurtful?"

She elbowed his ribcage lightly. "Stop trying to make me sound spiteful. She knows that I love you, and that you love me, and you know that she's as much using you as she loves you."

"And you aren't using me?"

"Other than making you my love slave? I wasn't intending to. Other then the basic ground rules of the relationship, I'm not going to try to keep you from doing what you like."

"Rules?"

"Um, yeah. Didn't I give you a copy?"

"Enlighten me."

"Hmm. Ok. One, you are mine, and I don't share with anyone else, male or female."

"That's rather… restrictive."

"You had better not mind. Oh, these rules apply to me, as well."

"Oh. That's much better. What's number two?"

"Two is no wanton killing of other people."

"You can't be serious."

"I don't want to be bedding a practicing mass murderer. You revert back to genocide, and there will be no bed games."

"Oh. Well, I had better try very hard to not do that, then."

She nodded emphatically. "Three… um. Three is you have to be honest."

"You just made that one up."

"No, not really. Honesty is very important in a relationship."

"In that case, I have a confession to make."

"What?" she asked, instantly wary.

"I love you."

She kissed him in response.

"Mmm. So is this positive reinforcement?" he purred as she pulled away.

"Yes," she replied before kissing him again.

After they had broken for air, he asked if there were any more rules.

"Not that I can think of right now."

"Then I have one. Four, no running away."

"Touché. I promise, no more dashing off and leaving you behind. From now on, you get to know at least a couple minutes in advance of my next departure."

"Which had better not be soon."

"I wasn't planning any trips in the near or far future." She paused, then changed the subject back to where it had been. "So, what are we going to do about Ace?"

"I guess we tell her. That seems to be what you want to do."

"It's the right thing to do. I'm just worried about how she's going to take the news."

"There's no point in worrying. Nothing we say or do now is going to change how she feels when we tell her, and her reaction to the news is entirely up to her. She can take the revelation with grace, or throw a fit, but that is entirely up to her."

"Do you think she will?"

"Will what?"

"Throw a fit."

"She might."

"Then what do we do?"

"What are we supposed to do? She wants to think she's an adult, she can begin to act like one."

"Oh, and like you're one to talk."

"I didn't say that it was all to likely to happen. Only that it should."

"Many things should happen, but they rarely do."

"We cannot dictate what she will do. Relax, and enjoy this night without worrying about what they day will bring."

Anne rested her head on his shoulder again and contented herself with that advice.


	106. The morning after

Ok, bit short 'cause I'm really too tired, but since I'm not likely going to find the time to wrote tomorrow night, I didn't want to leave you in the lurch now, as well.

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The both of them were too concerned with keeping quiet and not disturbing the rest of the house to try anything that might get loud, but just lying in each other's arms after so long was wonderful. Anne didn't know if she slept or not, as she was warm and comfortable either way. It was her heaven, now, finally. Someone to love her, and peace, even if only for the moment. She rather hoped that she wasn't sleeping, not wanting to waste a second of this precious time.

Even so, the morning came too soon, the suns cresting over the rim of the world, signaling an end to the night. And with one final kiss, Knives slipped his arms from her shoulders and left the way he had come. Anne stared out the window at his retreating form, loving the view, the way the early morning light seemed to seek out his hair, just to caress it and draw out the golden highlights that slumbered in the follicles. After he had disappeared from sight, she ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. 

Love was grand. Try as she might, she couldn't keep the silly smile from her face as she pondered getting to spend the rest of her life with him. Of being near him so often that a morning like this one could be commonplace. That someday soon she would be able to just roll over in bed and be in the arms of him. After so many years apart, the thought of being so near was a heady one, and like a rich wine, she savored every moment.

Yawning slightly, she grabbed a robe and slipped out the door to the bathroom. One quick and cold shower later and she could finally keep the smile off her face.

Most of the time.

After getting dressed she wandered down to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Sipping it slowly, she listened to the sounds of the rest of the house waking up. It was a good sound, the hoarse-voiced greetings and running water combining to sound like a home. Anne wondered if she would ever know a home like this one, or if when all was said and done if they would retire to Knives' ship instead. She was lazy enough to almost prefer the ship, but there were benefits to living near friends.

Mark came into the room about ten minutes after Anne, interrupting her thoughts of the night before.

"Have a nice night?" he asked softly, and she blushed from her neck to her hairline.

"What do you mean?" she choked out, trying to recover.

"Well, you two were discreet."

"Who?"

"I watched him climb in your window."

She coughed. "We didn't do anything. Except talk. And, uh, kiss." She blushed more.

"Oh, I'm sure that was it."

"It was!" 

Mark grinned at her discomfiture. "So I take it you two made up?" Anne nodded. "Good. So leaving him that recording was a good idea."

Anne's eyes shot sparks. "You did not!"

"Well, what good is recording what goes on in your apartment if I can't make it work for you?"

Anne slipped into a chair as her knees grew too weak to hold her. "I can't believe you did that."

Mark took the chair across from her, slipping it out from under the table and flipping it around so her could rest his arms on the back. "But it worked out right," he pointed out. "You weren't going to tell him that Ace was being a poisonous little bitch; you have too much of the martyr in you. So I told him for you."

"Ugh. But thank you."

"What are friends for?" he asked lightly.

"I know what this means to you," she said softly, "and I appreciate it all the more."

Mark sighed, then let a smile crease his face. "I had no chance with you. Your heart has always been his. And his is yours."

She smiled at him sadly, knowing that things wouldn't have been different between then, even if Knives hadn't been in the picture. Then a thought struck her, and she snickered. At his puzzled look, she let him in on the joke. "You know that Ace is free now."

"Oh, please. I thought you were my friend," he said, wounded. "I wouldn't wish her on my worst enemy. Didn't, obviously."

"Obviously," she echoed, and they both dissolved into laughter.


	107. Telling tales

Has anyone seen Oneechan? I'm getting worried… *frets*

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Anne went off to work, where she was promptly snowed under by problems that had arisen overnight. It was more than merely difficult to think of work. While she tried to concentrate on linkage problems and soldering options, her mind kept drifting to last night, or to what she knew she needed to do tonight. One could tell which preyed most heavily on her mind by taking in either the goofy grin or the pensive frown plastered on her face. But she did try to concentrate on the pressing troubles that had been brought to her, and she did manage to make some progress.

Finally working her way through the linkage problem, she shoved the soldering one to the edge of her desk and thoughtfully watched as it slowly toppled into her trashcan. Wishing that she could leave it there but knowing that wasn't an option, she stood up and fished it out, the looked at the clock and decided that it would not be a terrible thing if she left for lunch a few minutes early.

She stood and stretched, listening to her spine pop as she yawned, waking up from the enforced tedium of sitting at a desk. She wondered once more, as she opened the door and took in the office and all its chaos, just how she had ended up with a desk job. She had always shunned anything that took her away from the action, that kept her off the edge between life and death. And now look at her, comfortably far away from the edge she had courted. Her former self would have looked at this life and shuddered in horror, but she had to admit that it had its points. 

Maybe she was just getting old. Aside from a week ago, the memory last time her pulse had pounded in her ears, fueled by adrenalin and controlled panic, had faded. She was pleased with her performance last week, felt that even though she had moved away from the line that she had spent so many years walking that she hadn't lost that talent that had allowed her to follow it for so long.

She meandered over to where Effie commanded and waited for her friend to extract herself from her own personal set of disasters, and then the two set off for lunch.

"So, did you two make up?" she asked as they walked out of the building. "That smug look in your eyes is a good hint, but I want to hear all the juicy details."

"Who says the details are juicy?" Anne shot back, then grinned. "They aren't really."

"What, no fevered apology, no beating his breast with pleas to take you back? No night of grand passion to make the earth move and the stars sing? And you still took him back?"

Anne laughed. "An apology, which I was shocked to hear, but no beating of the breast. He did climb in through my bedroom window, though, after I had gone to bed."

"That's romantic! Or scary, if he's a stalker."

"We'll go with romantic."

"So, then the night of grand passion?" 

"Nope. We were in Mark's house, and neither of us are exhibitionists. You know how thin the walls are."

"Pooh."

"I did get to sleep in his arms all night long, though."

Effie closed her eyes and sighed happily, then opened them before she walked into a wall. "That's sweet, at least. He gets points for sweet."

"Indeed." They exited the building and walked past the square, deciding to go to their favorite little Italian bistro. Effie wheedled every last detail out of Anne, then declared herself satisfied, but not overwhelmed, by Knives' behavior. 

After sitting and ordering, lasagna for Anne and fettuccine alfredo for Effie, the normally hyper woman's face grew serious.

"I think I need to learn how to use this talent thing I have."

Anne mirrored her serious mien, letting the echoes of last night's euphoria fade for the moment. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, you say I have it. And mentally, I can accept that I do. But there's still the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that tells me that it's wrong. Evil, almost, to be able to do things that other people can't. But then I look at Mark and see how he can walk now, and that scared part of me just seems so selfish. If I could do that, and allow fear to let other people suffer, well, that's just wrong."

"You don't learn healing right away. And I can't promise that you will ever be able to. Healing is not an easy thing to do; you need to be very precise, very careful, and have complete control over what is going on. You may be powerful enough to learn, but that's no guarantee that you'll be able to continue."

"But I can try, right? If I fail, well, that's no big deal," she lied, but both let the lie pass. "At least I will have tried. I can feel better if I tried. 

"Just look around, Anne. There are no real surgeons on Gunsmoke, not anymore. We used to live in a society that nearly conquered death, where people who lived into a second century were more common than those who didn't, but not now. Now you're old at sixty, ancient at seventy, and eighty is almost unheard of. Women are dying in childbirth in increasing numbers, children dying before they turn two because of diseases that took nothing to cure one hundred years ago. A pill, a spray, a shot and they were gone, but we ran out of those supplies and now people die."

Anne nodded. "I know the numbers."

"And you're concerned with the plants, which is well and good and very rational of you. But someone needs to look out for the rest of the planet."

"And you think that should be you."

"I don't see anyone else to take up the job."

Anne reached over and took her friend's hand.


	108. How do you live with yourself?

*grumbles slightly* If you guys are going to take the weekends off from reading, I'm going to start taking them off, too.

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After one very full minute, Effie took her hand back, shaking so badly she knocked the salt over. Collecting the spilled grains, she tossed then over her shoulder and then swept the last few crystals from her fingers. Her eyes were looking beyond the bistro, beyond the walls, shadows, lights, and diners that were in her field of view.

"That, that wasn't what I was expecting," she commented softly, her eyes still not quite focusing on the real world.

"That's the way I teach," Anne said simply, wishing that she could have made the first lesson easier, but knowing that if she had given her friend any time to worry over the lesson that it just would have been harder for both of them. "It will get easier, when you get more used to it."

"It wasn't bad," she said vaguely. "It was just… not what I was expecting." Effie was still trying to order the new memories, to make some sort of sense of what she had been given. Her eyes finally focused on Anne. "Was that the way you learned?"

Anne shook her head. "That's the easy way. At least for the basics, I think it's best to learn as fast as we can." Left unsaid was all that the need for speed implied. Both knew that what they were doing now might get them killed. Effie knew it best, which was probably why she had steered them to a restaurant not in the shadow of the plant. 

Effie nodded shallowly, acknowledging the danger. "Yes. That's probably best."

"But anyway, that's the way you keep other people's thoughts out of your head."

"Yes… I see. It's not what I expected it would be like."

"You thought it would be nice and quiet, right? Not lonely."

"No." She shook her head. "It's nice. But it's a bit like suddenly going deaf. It's going to take some getting used to."

"Why?"

"What? Why what?"

"Why get used to it?"

"It's wrong to eavesdrop on other people's thoughts!"

"Why?"

"Because they are private."

Anne rolled her eyes a little, grinning. "And you've not been listening to them for years? Really, is there anything that surprises you about people and their thoughts anymore?"

"Not really. But isn't it wrong to take the privacy of their own mind from them?"

Anne leaned in a bit. "You are an amazing coordinator, precisely because you know exactly what people want from you and from each other. You already don't go tearing through people's minds looking for their deepest, darkest secrets, right? Learning to shield them out is meant to help you, not them. 

"Let's face it; most people just aren't interesting enough for you to bother looking at their thoughts, so they're safe. But don't deny yourself the use of an extra sense, just because you're worried about hurting a few feelings."

Effie opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the arrival of the meal. Time was taken with the mundane details of lunch, minutes before they could return to their conversation. Anne was much more eager to eat than Effie, digging in with abandon, cutting through the layers of lasagna with an unfeigned hunger. As Anne lifted her first forkful to her mouth, Effie asked, "Do you listen to the thoughts of others?"

"Me?" she said with her mouth full, then swallowed and said, "No way."

"What?" she asked, surprised.

"I'm an empath. It's much harder for me to fully shut people out than it is for you. Honestly," she added after a second thought, "I stay out of their thoughts for my own sanity. You need to keep a personal distance form others, which you can obviously do, or you would likely not still be living right now. I get very close to the people around me when I try to listen to what goes on in their heads. Sometimes it's almost too close, so I keep my mind shut as often as possible."

Effie took her first small bite of her meal and chewed slowly while thinking things over. "What's it like for you, being an empath?"

Anne shrugged and swallowed. "I like people, for the most part. I understand them, can figure out what motivates them, why they act the way they do. It's very hard for me to hate someone when I understand them the way that I do." She tapped her fork lightly on the edge of the plate as she thought. "I do get very close to people, especially people I get in very close contact with, like you and Mark, Knives and Ace, and even just coworker sorts of people. Anyone I see often. I don't think you guys realize how much I like you, like all of you. I know I don't show it much, and that's a personal failing. I'm not very good at getting close to people, but I do like you, even though I may sometimes seem rather distant."

Effie sat back and pushed around the food on her plate. "And you just live like this, knowing all that you do, and knowing that you're different. Knowing that all the people you like will hate you as soon as they know what you are."

Anne shrugged. "I can't change them. Not by dancing my hands about and waving my magic wand. But you hated me, when you learned. And Mark hated me, and now look at you guys."

"But that's different. We already knew about plants, were more prepared."

"So? You weren't prepared for me, but you got over it."

"You nearly died," Effie said very softly.

"But I didn't. And I won't. I'll just keep being my own charming self and hope for the best."

That last bit elicited a chuckle. "You? Charming?" she asked as she settled forward to eat.

"Entirely," replied Anne through a mouthful of food.


	109. What to do?

Ooo, all introspective, and, like, stuff. Yeah.

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Anne and Effie went back to work, Anne promising another lesson the next time they could steal a chance. Effie seemed subdued after the entire affair, but not depressed, so Anne called it a victory, of sorts. It was too much to expect that she would be entirely happy to be learning how to hone her talent, not on this planet where mental gifts were seen as freakish. Actually, Anne pondered, tapping her fingers against her hip as she passed around the stationary groups of coworkers in the hall, there were a lot of things that were rather freakish on this planet. The Nebraska family, the Gung Ho Guns in general, she had observed from the vantage of her own world, but even after arriving on Gunsmoke, she had seen people that weren't entirely your typical human.

Sadly, most of these people were not what you would see as law abiding citizens, either. Outlaws and bandits for the most part, they used whatever made them different as a source of power. The people were right to fear the different when those who were abnormal gravitated to lawlessness, almost to a man. Of course, it's hard to be a happy, productive neighbor when all around you shun you as a monster. Maybe it's just one of those self-fulfilling prophecies, she mused as she slid into her desk chair. If enough people see you as evil, you just don't see a reason to be anything else. It takes strength of character to persevere in the face of opposition, and trust is a hard thing to win on this planet. Even with actions speaking louder than words, times were uncertain enough that few were willing to make the leap of faith needed to trust someone that their eyes told them was dangerous.

Anne picked up her stylus and tapped it against the desk as she thought, the rhythmic percussion aiding her musings. Luckily she and the others looked human enough for that to not be a problem, or at least most of the time. And she would be the first to rush forward and say that the whole Angel business creeped her out. As far as character went, she knew that she was strong enough, and fey enough that the opinions of others didn't weigh on her so strongly that she would change her behavior to suit them. Knives, Vash, both of them knew who they were, and neither would change to fit into whatever category the populace labeled them in.

But would Ace be? Would Alex? If angry mobs of people (and here her mind inserted a mass of humanity waving torches and pitchforks, despite the fact that neither item really existed on Gunsmoke) suddenly started to hunt them down, called them evil, called them demons, called them monsters and treated them as such, how would the two of them respond? How would Effie? Would they turn the other cheek, take the insults, the fear and try to work around it, or would they instead let the fear of others work upon them?

She worried about Ace the most. The child already had a cruel streak, was already hurting inside. Like anyone will when they are hurt, she was ready and willing to lash out at anyone who provided the slightest provocation. If someone dared to call her a monster, she'd likely respond like one. She wouldn't worry about what would come next, not the next day, not the next human, not anything beyond her reaction. And lashing out would ease the pain she carried inside, making her more and more likely to respond in anger until all that she gave to the world was her pain, making it grow in the hearts of others as she tired to ease it within her own. That would make her seem a monster in truth, and then where would they all be?

Anne grabbed the soldering problem off the back of her desk and arranged it neatly before her as if she were ready to focus on work, but still tried to think about what to do about Ace. She didn't need to be all that intelligent to be able to predict that the woman would not take the news of her and Knives getting back together well. There would likely be a tantrum of some sort, a lashing out at those who made her pain fresh again.

Knives leaving Ace for her was likely to make the girl feel discarded, for all that she was purportedly only using him. Discarded, rejected by the two people she loved the most, Anne feared to try to predict what would come next.

The best plan she could come up with was to try to break the news gently, but how gently can you tell someone that you stole their lover? No matter that she had stolen him first, and not regarding that Knives was more than just a toy to be passed along between them, what was she going to say to Ace?

She knew that it would have to be her. Knives being Mr. Completely-Lacking-In-Tact, the job would naturally be handed over to the only one with a prayer of not completely screwing things over.

Her, whose main skill seemed to be making people hate her. Really, she knew that she was not qualified to handle this evening. Something was going to be said wrong, and it was going to be her fault, or at least Ace would see whatever her reaction was as her fault, regardless of whether or not she was really to blame.

Anne sighed and buried her head in her hands, happening to see the report that she was really supposed to be researching. She made a face at the report, then in the general direction of where she supposed the camera watching her was. Brining her monitor online, she began pulling up files that looked like they might hold some of the information she desired. Using the stylus to pull them down to the lower right corner of the display, she yawned and shook her head, trying to dispel the maudlin thoughts that plagued her with such simple charms.


	110. Preparing for battle

Onee-chan is back!!! *glomps*

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Somehow, she managed to plow her way through enough of the problem for five o'clock to arrive. Soldering was an incredibly boring topic, or at least she found it so. Maybe if she had time to go out and experiment with the different forms it might become more exciting, but just reading reports written by engineers and others with minimal writing talents was enough to make her want to scream. Or sleep. Or maybe both. With relief, she sat back and closed down her computer. Then she remembered what she needed to do now, and she wished that she had more time before the dreaded event. A year would be good, two even better. Enough time, perhaps, for Ace to come to her senses and act like a rational human being.

Anne stood and sighed, then shoved her hands in her pockets. She stood with her head bowed down for a moment, pondering the possibility that tonight might go well, then calculating the odds that it wouldn't. If she were a betting woman she would definitely avoid betting that there would be peace. Lifting her head and walking over to the door, she had to take one hand right back out again so she could open it, but she liked the scrunched over feel of her shoulders. So back into the pocket went her hand. Mark came up behind her after she reached the hallway and massaged the nape of her neck.

"You ran off on me again," he chided gently.

She leaned back into the massage. "I was with Effie," she pointed out. "I thought I had a keeper."

"I'm supposed to be the one keeping an eye on you. You keep acting like things are the same as they were last week, and they aren't. Either you get better at not leaving me behind, or the people on high are going to re-evaluate their decision to let you run around loose."

Her muscles tensed even tighter at that tidbit, and Mark wished that he could take it back.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I'm just trying to pretend everything is normal, I guess. Just so I can keep my head from exploding, at least."

"I understand. But then, I know you. The council doesn't, or at least not personally, so they aren't inclined to take as lax a view."

Anne sighed. "Do you realize what this means? You get to be a spectator at the 'Ace blows up after the news' party."

Mark stopped dead in his tracks. Anne kept walking a few paces, then turned and looked to see if he was alright. The stricken look on his face matched the one in her heart. "I know," she said wryly. "I'm not looking forward to it, either."

"Do I have to be there?" he asked, voice perilously close to a whine. He shook his head and caught up with her, but the self-pity was evident in the lines of his face and the shadows of his eyes.

"I'm certainly not going to force you to be. But, as you pointed out, it's not up to me. Or you."

"Are you going to do this at your apartment? Can I cower in some other room?"

"Yes, and if you like. Can I join you?"

He laughed, and she sighed. "Honestly, Mark, do you have any idea what I should say? Sorry that you're a conniving little twit, but we see past you now? Hi there, girl who hates me. I took Knives back."

"Isn't he going to help you out? Provide support for what's going on between you?"

"Him? Mark, this is Knives we're talking about. He doesn't provide support, and he certainly doesn't do making people feel better."

"What a way to get out of the difficult problems of life."

"I think we all know the man isn't stupid."

They exited the building and Anne stopped at the top of the stairs, looking down into the plaza. The late afternoon sunlight was etching the surfaces of the world with gold, and people moved about without any worry about how a borderline psychotic four-year-old adult would take a bit of unhappy news. She watched them for a moment, envying them, then realized as she watched then that she was just delaying the inevitable a little longer. She forced her feet to move, making them take her one pace closer to the confrontation she dreaded. 

Soonest done is soonest over, she reminded herself as her stomach clenched in nervousness. Never done is best, the organ informed her, and she had to admit that it had a point. But never done would mean that she had to give up Knives, and no temper tantrum would be so terrible as to make that an even remotely possible prospect. The commute to her apartment had never seemed so long, or so short as it did that day. With each step she tried to marshal her determination, and with every breath her resolve seemed to flow out of her. The battle kept her mind occupied enough that she didn't realize how close she was getting to her place until Mark put a gentle hand on her elbow to keep her from walking past the building. 

She flushed a little at the slip, but turned up the walk with a nod of thanks. Knives met them at the outside door to her apartment, saying nothing as they filed into her apartment building. The silence followed them up the flights of stairs and down the hall. It was only broken by him saying that Vash, Meryl, and Alex had all gone out for dinner.

In a way, the news was a relief, but even more it made her nervous. Mark pointed to the stairs and made his way back to them, sitting on the first few steps to the next floor. Anne looked at Knives, knowing that there would be no witnesses to whatever came next. It was just her, and Knives, and one crazy child. 


	111. The conversation

Again, sorry for the break before a pivotal chapter.

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As Anne opened the door, she caught a glimpse of Ace laying haphazardly on the couch, staring at the ceiling and doing nothing in particular. Then the girl saw who had opened the door and straightened her posture considerably, sitting up and leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees and letting her hands dangle loosely between her legs. The scowl that bloomed on her face was ample evidence that the discussion to come wasn't going to go very well.

As if Anne had needed that assurance.

Ace addressed Knives, looking over Anne's shoulder and trying to dismiss her completely. "What is she doing here?" If one was basing an impression of Anne on Ace's tone, one might think that Anne was in the last throes of a highly communicable disease.

Knives didn't say anything. He stepped into the room just enough to close the door behind him, then leaned up against it. Anne walked forward a few steps, until the hate in the glance caused her steps to falter, then stop. "Ace, we need to talk."

The girl's eyes narrowed, and it didn't take a mind reader to ascertain that she was trying to decide if she should deign to talk to Anne, or if there was some way she could force Knives to do it for her. The silence lengthened, the sounds of bodies moving and people laughing in the next apartment an ironic counterpart to the stasis.

"Isn't that just a nice way of saying that you need to talk, and I need to listen?" she said finally.

Anne bit back a sigh of relief. "No," she said calmly. "It means we need to talk. If you like, you can go first."

"I'd rather not speak to you any more than I absolutely have to."

Anne bit her lip, then blurted, "Knives and I are back together."

Ace stayed silent for a couple seconds, then arched a brow. "Are you? Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Funny. He didn't say anything of the sort when he was in my arms this afternoon. Did you two just make up in the hallway?"

"We made up last night."

"And you're sure he hasn't changed his mind since then?" Ace shook her head and tsked. "Men can be so fickle."

Anne didn't even grant her accusations enough weight to turn and look at designated male. "You lie. You aren't going to hurt me, or make me doubt him."

Ace settled back on the sofa and allowed a small smile to cross her face. "You are just too trusting, aren't you?"

Anne stepped forward until she was looking down at the girl. Ace tilted her head back, the smile turning lazy as she treated Anne's looming form as no threat. "I'm not trusting," she said quietly. "You're just an awful liar."

Again the arched eyebrow.

"Don't lie to an empath," Anne said without heat. "We can always tell when you're trying to play with the truth."

The smile faltered. Ace sat up straight, then stood, trying to diminish the distance between them. Her chin tilted up, and she met Anne's eyes, demanding, "So what do you want?"

"You to be happy."

That wasn't what Ace was expecting. She actually took half a step back before recovering, her shock evident before she pulled the cloak of her pain around herself again. Thusly armored, she attacked again. "Then die," she snarled. "That would make me happy."

"Why? What did I do to make you so angry with me?"

""You left!"

"I'm sorry." Anne's voice remained calm, soothing.

"I don't care!" Ace's eyes narrowed, and her mouth spewed vile words. "You don't just get to leave, and then come back, and have all of us pretend that all of a sudden everything is better. It isn't! You left, and you made damn sure that no one could come after you, and then you have the gall to think that after all that we would actually want you back! Well Knives might, and Vash might, but I don't! I'd be happy if you had died! So go die!" Ace shoved Anne in the chest, but she was prepared for the assault and was barely rocked. Ace scowled at the lack of reaction and stomped off to the door to the bedroom. She took up sentry by the door, back against the wall, arms across her chest, and staring at her feet.

Anne turned and sat down slowly on the couch, sighing a bit. "What do you want me to do?" she asked quietly, rubbing her palms on her cheeks. 

"Go away. Leave us alone."

"You do not decide for me," said Knives quietly, but in the silence of the room it echoed like thunder. "And I want her around."

"I don't." She looked at Knives, a lost look in her eyes. "So that doesn't matter? You get what you want, and she gets what she wants, and everyone is happy but me? That's not fair."

"And fair is when you get your way all the time?"

"This is not like me asking for candy, Knives. I don't want her in my life!"

"We're plants. We're in each other's lives whether we like it or not."

"She wasn't! She can just go back to being not in our lives."

"She has been. Have you any idea what she's been doing here?"

"Aside from working for those bastards who tortured me?"

Knives ignored that. "She's been working to ease the burden on out sisters. They are dying. She didn't stay away out of spite, but out of a sense of duty."

"Then let that sense of duty keep her company. Because I sure won't."

"Ace." Anne's quiet voice was unexpected, and surprised both of them into looking at her. "I'm sorry I left you. I'm sorry I left for so long. It was cruel to you, and I'm sorry."

"You're selfish, is what you are. Why did you have to leave anyway? We all loved you."

"That was the problem."


	112. Anne's soliloquy

So, how will the conversation end?

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"I don't know how much you know about my childhood, but no one loved me. Then I grew up, and no one loved me. Then I died, and still no one had loved me. I was feared, hated, despised, obeyed, or even grudgingly respected, but never, ever loved. And then I came here, and there was you, and Knives. I couldn't comprehend what was going on, that there were people who actually liked me enough to want to be near me. 

"Then there was the entire death and torture thing I went through, as well as the entire plant business. I needed time to sort things out in my head, and I needed to see if you all really loved me, or if I was just fooling myself. So I ran away, and I made it difficult to follow me because if you went through all that trouble, just for me, then maybe it would be real, and maybe you really would love me. It wasn't like I reasoned things through like that, but looking back now, that's basically what I was thinking.

"What you and Knives shared with me was too easy, and I couldn't trust it. I hadn't earned it, I didn't know why I received it, and there was just too much going on for me to try and sit and rationalize what was going on between us. So I ran, and I'm sorry. And I stayed away, and you never came after me, so I figured that maybe you hadn't really loved me after all. And while I hated the thought, it actually eased my mind a bit. I was no longer having to fear what I would do if it was a lie.

"Enough time had passed that I could pretend that not having you around me, near me, in my life at all, was fine. That there wasn't this huge, gaping, bleeding hole where half my life had been. 

"I've been working very hard the past few years. Yes, because my help is needed. But also because if I worked hard enough, then I didn't have to think. Didn't have time to think. And then, when things slowed up a bit at work, I picked up time-consuming hobby. Again, so I wouldn't have to be reminded that my house was empty, that my home was far away and filled with people who didn't really want me after all." Anne's voice caught, but she forced herself to go on.

"I am so sorry that I left you behind. I should not have gone, and certainly not the way I did. I should have given you the chance to say goodbye, to argue me out of leaving, to have a say in what I did because it wasn't just my life, as I was thinking, but I hurt your lives too, and I'm sorry. I was afraid, in a way, that you would argue me out of leaving. That if I had to say goodbye to you in person, that then I couldn't do it, couldn't just run off in the face of your pain.

"And for the love of all that's holy, I shouldn't have let you, either of you, think that I was a genalt after I found out that I was a plant. That was a huge lie, and neither of you deserved it. I was in a snit after Ace got all the attention in the desert, and that no one seemed to worry that I had been shot. That was very immature of me, and I'm sorry. I was afraid that if you knew I was a plant, that you would use that as the main reason to like me, to love me, to want to keep me around. Not because of who I was, but because I had the right genes to belong to the club. 

"Not that belonging to the club is in anyway bad. I love you guys, and I'm beginning to love Alex as well. But I would hate to be wanted for nothing that I could help, or change if I wanted to.

"Besides which, being a plant is not something I'm dealing well with. I'm not geared to think in terms of immortality, and nearly unlimited power. I'm just not able to comprehend such subjects as they pertain to me. But what weirds me out the most is the whole shape changing thing. I'm not used to my body being a mutable thing, shapeable at my will. I was very used to my old body, very comfortable in it. I should have been, considering that I had been forced to heal just about every part of it at one point or another. This one just doesn't have the same stability to it, the same feeling of permanence. I'm not sure if it's real, and if I just didn't notice it in my first months here, of if it's something psychosomatic. But whichever it is, I'm not entirely comfortable within my skin, with the knowledge that it isn't the skin I'm used to."

She paused a moment, then looked up from her hands and tried to meet Ace's eye. "I know I was wrong. I know I should not have left you, and certainly not the way I did. I'm not going to ask for your forgiveness, because if ever you do decide to forgive me it won't be because I want it, but because you do."

At the last, Ace met her eye. "I don't," she said coldly. She stared at Anne long enough to watch the words imprint themselves on a soul that had just laid itself bare, then walked to the door. She eyed a non-moving Knives, then asked sarcastically, "Am I a prisoner? Or just until the conversation is over?"

"It's over," said Anne softly at the same time Knives moved away from the door.

And Ace left.

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Oh. Well ain't that a bummer…


	113. Aftermath

Sorry about *another* day off. *tries to find motivation, heads off to check under bed, falls asleep*

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Anne swallowed hard a couple times, then leaned over and untied her shoes. It felt slightly odd for this to be the first thing she did after Ace walked out. It was as if she were making sure that she wasn't going to go out after her, but that wasn't her reason. Her feet just hurt. She sighed a little as she slid her feet out, wiggling her toes as she tried to regain her composure. Ace could hardly have been crueler, and she knew that had been her intention. The girl was full of so much hurt, and she held the pain so close. Anne could understand her very well, having done the exact same thing for so many years. She wasn't so foolish as to believe that just because Ace was a plant that she would be much smarter when it came to matters of the heart.

Just look at her. She had done the same thing Ace was doing now until she was sixty. Hardly fair to expect a four year old to be more mature then she had been just a couple years ago. Anne ran her fingers through her hair but kept looking at her feet. She just hoped that she could pass on what she had learned, and that Ace would believe her, and that it wouldn't take the child as long as it had taken her.

Knives quietly walked over and sat down by her, but she didn't turn and look at him. Instead, she leaned against him, laying her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her and held her close. Once again, Anne wondered how she could have left him behind, could have pretended that she could live without him near. The past few years seemed drained, colorless in contrast to how she felt when he was around. Anne sighed and breathed deep of the scent that she had missed. For a moment she wished that everything was right in the world, that they could just be a couple without any cares, spending time in each other's company just for the sheer joy of it.

"She's still young," he said after a moment. Anne stopped fantasizing about leaving responsibility behind and returned to the thorny problem of Ace.

"I know," she said softly. "Just because she looks all grown up doesn't mean that she's had enough experience with life to know…" Anne stopped, fumbling for the words she wanted. "To know how to deal with people, how easy it is to hurt, how hard it is to heal the breach that hasty words and actions can create, to know that other people can screw up and it has nothing to do with trying to hurt her." She sighed again and snuggled closer. "She hasn't experienced enough of life yet. Intelligence is good, but it can never take the place of experience."

Knives said nothing in response, but held her a little tighter and dropped a kiss on her forehead. They sat there silently, taking comfort in just being close to each other until Anne made to move away. At Knives' hurt look, she explained that she needed to use the restroom.

After she finished, she flung herself face down across the bed. The sound her body made as she hit the mattress brought a small smile to her face. It was her bed, and felt like her bed, and was smooshy like her bed, and was big like her bed, and those were all good things. She grabbed her pillow, was glad that it was her pillow, and buried her face in it, breathing deep of the scent and wistfully wishing for the bliss of sleep. She wanted to forget the look on Ace's face, that mingled look of betrayal and hate. She peeked up over the edge of her pillow and saw Ace's pack still sitting messily in the corner of the room. She hoped the girl wasn't going to go do anything rash, that she would be back soon. She knew the child just needed some time to think, and some space to do it in, but she selfishly hoped that the time would be short and the space would be near. She wanted Ace back, wanted to be part of the entire family, and not just pieces. She wanted everyone to be happy, so she could selfishly enjoy her happiness without feeling guilty. Then she buried her head in her pillow again and sighed.

Knives came into the room and sat down by her. His hands were placed lightly on either side of her neck, and he began to massage away the tension that lingered there. She began to purr as his hands moved lower, working at the stress that had accumulated in the muscles of her back. He reached a troublesome knot, and she gasped.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, taking his hands away.

"Do. Not. Stop," she demanded, and to help his efforts she stripped off her top. "Just keep that up until I pass out, please."

He chuckled, then rubbed his hands briskly together and set the warmed fingers to the knot. She sighed in pleasure.

Knives shifted his weight, sitting more and more on the bed as he brought his weight to bear on the massage. He kept trying to elicit more of those small sounds she made when he managed to get rid of a tight spot. He couldn't quite define the noise. They were something between a gasp and a chuckle and a sigh.

Finally, he ended up straddling her rear as he rolled his hands up and down her back, easing away the last of the tension, working the muscles back into their proper places. Then he leaned down with a smile, moved her hair out of the way and began to kiss the nape of her neck.

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(Insert your favorite hentai here, 'cause I'm not going to. =Þ)


	114. Feral

It's not motivation to work on this story that I can't find, it's just any in general. I have the bad habit of not wanting to do anything at all when I get really stressed.

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Ace wandered through the streets of December, head bowed down with the weight of her thoughts. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, passing through both good and bad areas of town without sparing a thought for her safety.

But then again, she was a plant. It just doesn't seem to be in their nature to assume that normal people could actually cause them any trouble. 

She had a lot to think about, and no real place that she could call her own in which to do it. A small part of her conscience chided her for her reaction to Anne's apology, but the majority of her logically pointed out that the woman needed to suffer for the pain that she had put her family through. It wasn't like she wasn't going to forgive her. Eventually. After she managed to get her point across.

You just don't run out on your family. It's that simple. She brushed aside her leaving an hour ago with the caveat that she wasn't going to be gone all that long. Just long enough to think things over.

She wondered what they were doing right now, and with the thought let her mind drift towards theirs. The contact she made was light enough for the both of them to not notice.

Especially given what they were doing.

Ace stopped walking, flinching in disgust. Her heart sank in her chest as she realized that they had probably wanted her to leave. They didn't even care that she was gone, didn't bother worrying over her absence, didn't even think to wonder if she was going to be okay before they started in on each other.

Ew. She couldn't believe that she had that sensation in her brain now. Talk about entirely disgusting.

She shook herself, a shiver that worked the feeling out of her spine. Looking around her, she noticed that she was in a very deserted area of town. She could sense no human life around for a couple blocks, at least, and given the dilapidated condition of the buildings around her, she could tell why.

It was a bit of a puzzle that no one had liberated construction materials from the abandoned warehouses that surrounded her, but it was a mystery quickly solved when her mental search rested on the minds of the animals that resided in the buildings.

Feral dogs. Packs of them roamed these blocks, ranging about the city at night, and coming back here to den during the day.

Ace shrugged as she turned in place, then picked the building with the largest pack to make her own. Walking the block and a half towards it, she readied a mental command to subdue any attack.

She peered around the building, looking for a way in. She noticed a worn down track in the dirt and followed it to a broken window.

A growl threatened as she peered in, and a body flying towards her did more than threaten. Contemptuously, she knocked it out of the air with a sweep of her arm. The dog quickly recovered and launched herself at Ace again, but was stopped by a wall of air. 

Ace wandered through the building, dogs leaping at her body, head, and feet with no success. The sounds of snarls, growls, and barks assaulted her ears like their bites could not. Eventually, the leader of the pack came to see what was causing such a disturbance.

She met him after turning a corner. The dog was a brindle mutt, closer to old that to young, but still powerful enough to defeat any challengers for his position. His coat didn't gleam as the fur was long and slightly matted, and his eyes were nearly lost under the scars that wrote their violent story on his muzzle, but his less than show condition did nothing to hide the canny intelligence in them, or the anger that he felt to have his sanctum invaded by an outsider.

He growled low in his throat as he padded towards her. Ace stopped moving and casually watched him approach, watched as he gathered his legs underneath him to spring. She watched as he launched himself at her, waited until the moment that she could snatch him out of the air and slam him into the wall. 

His legs scrambled without hope of finding purchase as she kept them from striking even close to her body. His mouth snapped impotently, but the snarl that bared his teeth didn't abate. Whatever kept him from attacking, it didn't bend his spirit one iota.

Ace forced him to meet her eyes, forced his mind until it calmed under the weight of hers. It was a slightly harder fight that she had imagined, the dog's will being stronger than she had expected, but she bowed him to her intentions all the same. The growls eased, the snarl disappeared. Instead, the dog's tongue lapped fitfully in the direction of her face, until, when Ace was finally certain that she had him under control and let him fall to the ground, he came over and licked her chin and ear in a gesture of submission and supplication.

She rested one hand on his head to calm his mind, then let the barrier around them fall. Instantly, he was transformed back into the snarling monster as he fought to retain his status in the pack, and to defend his tenuous position as leader from his followers. 

Ace watched dispassionately as one dog died, its throat torn out and her hound standing victorious over its corpse. Soon the lesser members of the pack, and after it proved the wise thing to do, then the rest came to give her homage. She took it as her due, then found a corner to rest in.

Warm bodies pressed around her, and her last thought before sleeping was that no one would be taking her away from here very easily.


	115. Afterglow

Did you miss me?

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Anne rested her head on Knives' chest and ran her fingers lazily over the ridges of his muscles. Her fingers lingered on his stomach as she felt him tense a little. She grinned, realizing that he was ticklish. She explored the sensation, enjoying the feel of him under her fingers. Living body, breathing, pulse beating, here. Her mind was clear of thought or trouble, lingering in the happy haze of the afterglow. Knives ran his fingers softly through her hair, then rested his hand on the back of her head, cupping her close to him. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then let his head fall back onto the pillow. Minutes passed, time measured only by heartbeats.

The thought was long in forming, and even longer incubated, but after a time Anne shifted enough to look up at him and give him a sleepy smile. "I missed you," she said.

He lifted his head a bit and quirked an eyebrow, eyes twinkling.

"No, not for that," she said, some of the drowsiness leaving her eyes. "Life is just so much more boring without you here. A pale imitation of what life should be. There is just so much less in it. Less love, less fun, less to think about." She paused to think, then continued. "Less aggravation, less trouble, less frustration."

"Hardly sounds like you want me to stay," he said softly.

"I hated every second that you weren't here," she said firmly. "I didn't notice it at the time, really. How much I missed you. I could pretend that life was fine without you. Not happy, not entirely pleasant, but fine all the same. That it was just a life, and that I didn't need to have you about to make it through." She turned her head so she was resting her chin on his chest. "But the difference between how I felt then and how happy I am now is amazing."

He mussed her hair. "I missed you, too." A short pause as he realized what he said, and then he amended, "A little."

She grinned and poked him in the side. He jumped, and she slid her head off his chest. "You don't have any reason to pretend that you don't like me anymore," she said as she sat up, resting her back on the headboard.

Knives sat up as well and slipped his arm around her. "I guess I don't, do I? It's a habit, though."

She snuggled close enough to rest her head on his shoulder. "Pointless habit. Who are you trying to fool, and why?" He scowled, and she laughed. "See, I'm right, aren't I?"

"Right about what?"

"That you love me. And that there is no reason to hide it."

"There are reasons." His voice was slightly petulant, and she stifled a chuckle. Less arguments, too, she thought but didn't voice. She liked arguing with him.

"Oh?" She echoed his arched eyebrow. "And these might be?"

"Someone might try to use the way I feel about you against me."

"Someone who?"

"The people you work for, perhaps."

She made a rude sound. "I can take care of myself."

"Like you managed a week ago?"

She sighed. "It's not last week anymore. If they decide to try to kill me now, it will be because they don't believe that humans and plants can ever live together in harmony. But I've at least forced them to look at the question of whether we can or can't. I'll fight back if I have to, but I'm not going to run and I'm not going to just let someone fear me with no real reason. And I'm certainly not going to let myself be put in a situation that's going to harm you." She paused. "So give me another reason."

"People might want to hurt you because it would pain me."

She laughed. "People who? Vash? Meryl? Hurt me how? My feelings?"

"You would take on my enemies, if they knew that I had feelings for you."

"I can take on your enemies. I'm not a helpless little girl, you know. I am a big, bad, ex-assassin plant. I can handle myself, no matter who your enemies are. As a matter of fact, your enemies should fear me.."

He sighed. "But I don't want parts of my life to try to hurt you. The thought that harm might come to you through my actions is disturbing."

"I knew you weren't safe the moment I first laid eyes on you. And you know what? I fell in love with you anyway. I can handle your life, you enemies, your troubles. And it's not a healthy start to our relationship if you want to try to keep me separate from parts of your life."

"You could get hurt."

She lifted her head enough to kiss his chin. "I know. And I love that you care that much about me. I don't want to see you get hurt anymore than you want me to. But you can't pretend that I'm not a part of your life if I am, and trying will only weaken you. You'll be too busy trying to pretend, and you'll leave yourself an opening to be hurt when I can be something that makes you strong."

"Strong? You'll help me fight the vermin then?" His voice was so full of hoped that she hated to dash it. Almost.

"In a word: no. But I will help you free the plants. Am helping." She sighed. "I want to be your partner. I want you to be mine. No more lies, no more pretending, no more deceit."

"I'm not the one who has been deceitful."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll try to stick to the truth from now on, I promise."


	116. Teasing

*laughs* I think it's funny that you guys thought I was *resting*

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With the impetus of a passing thought, Anne took her head off Knives' shoulder and looked at him. "You know," she mused as she threw the covers off, "we forgot Mark."

Knives looked at her, smug expression returned to his face. "You may have forgotten him," he said loftily, "but I was merely ignoring him."

She grabbed his shirt off the floor and flung it in his face. "Next you'll be telling me that the backrub was only a seduction technique," she said, voice muffled as she squirmed into her shirt.

"Of course it was," he said, slipping out of bed and looking for his pants.

She stuck her tongue out at him. He returned the gesture, but made it a bit more lascivious. She laughed, but ignored the invitation. Knives shrugged and fished his socks out from under the bed. In a couple more seconds she was presentable enough to not shock the neighbors. She left the bedroom and opened the door to the hall. Mark looked up from where he was sitting on the stairs and gave her a cheeky grin. "All done now?" he asked saucily. It was obvious that he didn't mean with the confrontation, or conversation, with Ace.

Anne blushed a bit, but gestured for him to enter the apartment instead of dignifying that remark with an answer.

Mark was determined to not drop the subject. "Nice bed hair," he said as he walked up to her. Reaching out a hand, he tousled her already mussed hair even more. "Is this the way Knives likes it?"

"Stop it," she sighed, then grinned. "I was the innocent victim of a backrub."

"Is that all it takes?" he asked, slipping in the apartment. Anne closed the door and leaned against it while he flopped on the couch. "You mean all these years, all I needed to do to have you at my mercy was give you a backrub?"

"Now you'll never know, will you?" She sighed again and pushed away from the door, muttering something about brushing her hair. Mark's laughter chased her into the bedroom.

"You're a male; make him stop," she complained to Knives on her way to the bathroom.

"Can I use force?" he asked after her. She looked over her shoulder and caught a gleam in his eye that didn't bode well for her tormentor. 

"No!" was the emphatic reply as she closed the door in his face. She grabbed her brush and started snickering quietly.

Violence denied. Knives went into the living room and stared at Mark, a smug smile on his face. He stared at the man on the couch, challenging him to say something.

"Oh, don't you look like the cat that just got into the cream," Mark remarked lazily.

Knives lifted an eyebrow and debated licking his lips, then thought that would be a bit much. "We talked a bit," he said instead.

"You two did a bit more than talking. I could hear you in the hall."

On Knives' face spread the blush Mark had tried to give Anne, and the man grinned. "What? If you didn't want someone to hear you, you might have been just a little bit quieter. These walls aren't so thick, you know."

"Oh, hush." Knives shifted from foot to foot and crossed his arms. His stare grew a bit colder, but that only made Mark laugh again.

"No, that's what you should have done," he said after he ceased snickering. It was ludicrous to Mark, his making the fiend blush, but he was willing to be amused at Knives' expense.

"Quit teasing him, Mark. It's not fair." Anne had finished her giggling fit and came out to wrap her arms around Knives' waist. 

"And what do you mean by that?" Mark asked as Knives slipped his hands down to cover hers..

"The poor man just doesn't understand these sorts of things. Undersocialized."

"Then I assume that you realize just how loud you two were?"

"Of course."

"Then why are you blushing?" he asked, grin widening.

"I'm not," she replied prosaically. "It's the lighting. Or your eyes are going bad. Maybe you're colorblind," she mused as she fought the color out of her cheeks.

Mark laughed, then made an ostentatious show of checking his watch. "I don't know about you two, but I'm hungry. Then again, with all that exercise you just got--"

"Yes, let's go eat," Anne interrupted him. 

"What are you making?" Mark asked.

"Reservations." She sat down next to Mark and started to pull her shoes back on. 

"Too tired to cook?"

She smacked the back of his head. "Will you knock it off?"

"But I've been saving these little remarks for so long," he whined.

"Save them longer."

"But," he protested, whining for the fun of fussing.

"Save them for Effie."

"Oh, like that's any fun. She just looks at me all-knowingly and asks me if I'm jealous."

Anne turned to him, plastered a wise expression on her face and intoned, "Are you jealous?"

He laughed.

She looked up at Knives. "What do you feel like eating?" she asked.

He gave her a look from head to toe. Anne rolled her eyes and stood up in one smooth motion. "I am surrounded by perverts. Or men. No, wait, they're both the same thing," she said as she walked to the door.

"But you like us anyway, don't you?" asked Mark. Knives smirked and ducked back in the bedroom for his shoes as Anne suddenly started to laugh.

"Yes. But tone it down a little for public consumption, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," remarked Knives as he returned. Mark echoed him a half-beat later, and they all exited the apartment. Knives slipped his fingers around Anne's as they walked down the stairs, and she grabbed on the his hand and refused to let go until after they had sat down for their meal.


	117. Couples

I uploaded the bit of writing on my original fic in the files section of the yahoo group, if anyone wants to read what kept me away from this over the past couple weeks. 

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Vash, Meryl, and Alex entered the apartment a little after ten at night. The tumblers in the lock clicked, betraying their entrance even as Vash turned the knob as silently as he could. But for all that their entrance was no surprise, the residents of the apartment didn't shift an inch, since none of them were doing anything incriminating. They were greeted by the sight of Anne and Knives cuddling on the couch. His arm rested on her back, and her head rested on his shoulder. Anne's left hand rested possessively on Knives' knee and her entire body arched close to his, taking as much comfort in his closeness as clothes and an audience would allow. 

Knives looked at the returning posse calmly as they quietly filed into the apartment, but Anne's eyes stayed closed. She looked to be drowsing and the three stayed silent to keep from waking her, Vash half-waving at his brother in greeting. But she welcomed them home softly as Alex closed the door behind him, dispelling the myth of her repose.

Mark was sitting with his back against the wall, legs drawn up before him with elbows perched on knees. He looked up at the family, back from wherever they had felt the need to be, but aside from a glance he made no motion to greet them. Instead, he returned to the fruitless task that had been occupying him. In his left hand he held the remainder of a deck of cards that he was trying to fling into a hat resting a foot in front of his feet. More were on the floor than in the hat, but not too many extra. He was pleased with his progress over the course of the night, since at the beginning he was only making about one card in three.

"Where's Ace?" asked Vash as his gaze darted about the apartment. Meryl stepped forward and slipped her fingers in her husband's left hand as she peered about, but she said nothing, her gaze merely resting calmly on Anne and Knives.

"Still out," Knives replied, unconcern suffusing his voice.

"Out? This late at night? Are you sure she's okay?"

"She's asleep somewhere, and warm." He relayed the news as if it made up for the fact that she was no longer around.

"Asleep?" Realization dawned in Vash's eyes as he pieced together what his brother wasn't quite saying. "So you finally made up your mind."

"My mind has been made up for a very long time now. I just finally let her know what her place was and wasn't in my life."

Anne snorted. "I don't remember you saying all that much," she commented, though her head still remained on his shoulder and her eyes remained shut. "I think I did most of the talking. And apologizing, if you'll remember."

Knives sighed then stroked her hair. 

"So is she not coming back tonight?" asked Alex.

"I don't believe so," said Knives. "She seems to need time to think things over."

"Which is a polite way of saying that the girl is throwing a spoiled little snit fit," added Mark, looking up for a moment as he tossed a card. When he looked back down, he was surprised to see that the card had been flung neatly into the center of the hat.. 

"Figures," Alex commented. He passed everyone by, going into the kitchen for a glass of water. "Anyone else want some?" he offered as he was in there. Mark took him up on the offer, thanking him as the boy sat down next to him, mirroring his pose.

While Alex had been in the kitchen, Meryl tugged on Vash's arm, leading him to the wall by the couch. She pulled him down to the floor and arranged it so that they were posed identically to the other couple. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she rested her head, and Vash moved his arm so that his hand nestled her head against him. 

Alex just rolled his eyes as he walked out of the kitchen, two full glasses of water in his hands. He passed one to Mark and sat down by him, not entirely willing to sit by himself and certainly not sitting next two people who were exuding the aura of couple-ness so strongly. Mark offered the cards still in his hand as he took his glass and the boy accepted. Mark nudged the hat closer to Alex and then watched as the boy attempted the trick. It didn't take him long to figure it out, and before many minutes had passed more cards were going in the hat than on the floor. Alex paused for a moment to take a swig out of his glass, then shot a smug grim Mark's way. Then his look became a bit more wry, and it didn't take much deduction for Mark to figure out that he was apologizing. Mark wasn't a plant to pick things up quickly and Alex didn't want to make him feel bad.

Mark sighed at the silent apology and the superiority complex it represented, then put his hand out for the cards back. Alex slapped them on his palm with a smile, then looked around the room. The two cute couples seemed to dominate the room. With a sidelong glance and a smile teasing the corners of his mouth, he shifted his seat and held his arms out to Mark. Eyes grew pleading, and he shrugged his shoulder in invitation.

Mark chuckled as he batted the arms away. "Yes, they're cute. Hell no, we aren't cuddling." Alex mock pouted, lip protruding with a slight quiver, eyes full of sadness as he laced his fingers together instead. The effect was ruined by the glance he shot at Mark to see if his pose was working. The two started to chuckle, one slowing only to start again by a look at the other.

The two couples sighed in unison at their antics.


	118. Ace awakens

Ace woke up and pushed herself into a seated position, needing to move a dog off of her arm to do so. With a mind lightly fogged by the last vestiges of sleep she looked around the place she had slept. Light streaked in the open door, pale and diffused, barely illuminating the place in which she rested. She had fallen asleep in a room with no windows, so there was no sunlight to pain her still tired eyes. If she strained, she could barely make out that there were four walls and a ceiling, the light was so dim. The room was filled with bodies of slumbering dogs, some clustered near to her, others sleeping in their own pack arrangements. She could feel their minds, even if she could hardly make out their bodies. She lifted her arms above her head and stretched out the kinks the hard ground had worked in overnight. After pushing one warm body off her legs she stood and walked out of the room, nudging sleeping forms this way and that as she made her way to the door. She ran her fingers through her hair to put it back in some semblance of order as she looked about her new home.

The dog she had dominated had woken up when she stretched. He had slept by her head, near her yet not quite touching. As she stood, he followed, stretching out the kinks in his back before going after her. He looked up at her wondering what exactly had happened last night. Somehow, his position as leader of the pack had been usurped by this, a toothless soft skin. He fell in at her heels, walking slightly behind her out of curiosity. His entire existence had been upturned last night, and he could hardly comprehend what made this human person so different from all the others he had seen. 

Ace was aware of her canine companion's musings, and bit back a sigh. Even this mutt thought that she was a human. How entirely degrading. He could only comprehend that she was a more powerful human than he had known. She fought back the impulse to aim a kick at him for the disgusting thought. Was it so difficult to tell the difference between plants and humans? She sighed, then remembered that he was merely a dumb animal, and could hardly be expected to figure out what even the humans could not.

Ace paced through the abandoned warehouse, up rickety stairs, in and out of rooms defaced by the occupation of so many animals. It wasn't as disgusting as it could have been, given that the building had been inhabited by feral beasts, but it still was much dirtier than her tastes preferred. She wondered if it would even be worth her effort to clean it, seeing as she would keep sharing the building with them. She could strip everything from the building, but it would not take long for it to return to the state it was in now. 

Standing in the large open space that had been a manufacturing facility of some sort, she looked around her. This was the largest room, and still the filth she saw was enough to turn her stomach. With a sigh, she turned to go back the way she had entered, then stopped. There was a ladder against the wall near the door. She looked above her, and saw a small room near the roof. With a smile that said nothing of happiness and much of triumph, she climbed the ladder and entered the room. It alone had stayed clean, only a layer of dust between her and a place to stay.

Dust she could handle. With a thought, she created a wind that lifted the dust and swept it out of the room. She was very thorough, yet in a matter of seconds the place was cleaner than it likely ever had been, and there were no pesky motes floating in the air to settle and mar what she had done. It was perfect, or as perfect as she could make it.

She turned and made her way back down the ladder. The dog was still there, waiting patiently for her to return. She ignored him. After that little trick she was hungry. She left the building and headed back into the more populous areas of town. The dog still followed her, closer to her heels as more and more people were on the streets, but she still paid him no mind.

At random she entered a diner and sat down at the counter. She ordered eggs, with toast, fruit, and milk, and dug into them greedily when they arrived. Still hungry when her plate was empty, she ordered donuts and an omelet. This filled her, with some scraps left, so she tossed them to the dog that sat at her heels. He took it gratefully, making the offerings disappear almost before they hit the floor. People might have stared at them, but Ace neither knew nor cared. They were all merely human, and why should she even bother with acknowledging their presence enough to be curious about what they thought?

Satiated, she stood and left. It was nothing for her to stop the waitresses short term memory from entering her long term storage, leaving the woman with empty plates and no recollection of when she had walked out. Some might view her eating and running as theft, but as she saw it, the humans grew that food from the blood of her sisters. She was entitled to as much of it as she desired, and if the humans complained than it just showed how selfish they truly were, to not give back what they had stolen from the plants. Ace refused to even contemplate how hard the humans had worked the soil to grow the food, or the cook to make it, or the waitress who served her. Their sacrifice was insignificant in the face of how terribly the plants who were not her had been made to suffer.


	119. Anne relaxes

Oh, look, I am alive.

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Anne sat back in her chair, front legs rising slightly off the ground as she reclined. The past couple of weeks had been very hectic. They had finally had their first major test of the solar power generators yesterday and there had been no explosions or massive equipment failures, or anything else obviously bad. The mood about the office today was cautiously optimistic, a few careful high fives, some extra camaraderie and patting of co-worker backs. There was still food left over from the catering of the test after-party yesterday, and the general mood of the office was well fed and smug. If things went well for a couple weeks, they would begin to ease the power drain on a couple of the floundering plants, and that was something that had her bulbed sisters almost as happy as the humans.

Everyone was pleased with themselves, glad that they had been a part of something that might save the human race, or at least what part of it resided on Gunsmoke. The fact that everything seemed to be working, that the test models hadn't suddenly developed bugs when they went from scale to full size models, that the pieces that had needed to go directly from the drawing board to the final product were doing what they were designed to do without problems, that all the various machines were working well in tandem, all of it combined, all the worries that had plagued anyone who had to look at the big picture, all the stress was slowly fading as the hours slid by with out any disasters.

Anne sighed contentedly as she played with the last couple of bites on her plate. She had spent two nights in her office last week, just too tired and too busy to go home. The thought of getting to leave at five today was making her nearly giddy. Vash had said last night that Knives had something to tell her. He had implied that the telling would be soon, with the emphasis on last night, but after all the stress leading up to the launch she had just wanted to sleep.

Knives had held her in his arms as she fell asleep, which was very nice. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and remembered how he had stroked her hair as she relaxed. She liked the new, calmer version of Knives. He had been wound much too tight when they had met. Maybe it had been her, or maybe it was the fact that he had been spending time around other people for the past few years, or maybe a bit of both, but she liked the result. 

Not that he had turned into a sweet harmless innocent or anything along those lines. He just seemed a bit less likely to snap at the slightest provocation. They could walk on city streets and he didn't spend all his time staring at the people around them, wondering who was going to try something. The stress lines around his eyes were mostly gone, only showing up when he was tired or over stimulated, and that was a wonderful thing to see.

Anne had wanted to invite the group to the launch, to let them see what she had been working on, but at the end she had been so tired that she was absolutely certain that the entire thing was going to blow up and that it would never work. She hadn't wanted them to see everything fly to pieces, sure that they would laugh at her or something equally demeaning. But nothing had happened that wasn't supposed to, and she was feeling obscurely guilty that she hadn't extended the invitation.

She sighed and leaned forward to shove one of the bites of food in her mouth. Chewing contentedly, she returned to her former position and thought about very little. She still had a few problems that she was supposed to be researching, mostly supply questions and a couple more research ones, but since no one else was working she didn't feel particularly motivated.

Her thoughts returned to Knives, and she wondered idly what he might want to say to her. Something more important that a dinner menu request, obviously, since Vash had felt the need to warn her that something was coming. She hoped that he wasn't going to ask her to leave now. For one thing, just because they had finally launched didn't mean that there wasn't still a bunch of work for her to do, and it wasn't like she could ignore it forever. For another, there was still the whole proving that plants aren't evil thing that she was working on. She hadn't heard much form her bosses lately, and nothing outside of work related tidbits. Whenever she quizzed Effie or Mark they just shrugged, said that no one had told them anything, and changed the subject.

The lifted chair legs thumped down on the ground as Anne shifted her weight forward. She rested her elbows on her desk and her chin in her hands as her thoughts drifted to the remaining member of her family. Knives had been keeping an eye on her, and he said that she was still thinking things through. With as busy as her life had been, she had been willing to let things go at that, but now that she had the time, she let her thoughts drift towards those of her absent family member.

And was abruptly glad that she already had all the chair legs on the ground, or she'd likely had fallen. _This _was Knives' idea of just fine? Ace was plotting the destruction of the human race! Anne had barely brushed the surface of the girl's thoughts, but even that was enough to leave her pale. Ace was plotting to kill and kill and kill, and Knives thought that this was not something that she might want to know?

Oh, he was going to get yelled at. Luckily the walk home was long enough for her to come up with some really choice insults because she was too enraged to think of them on the fly. 


	120. Argueing with friends

Ok, let's see if this can be the start of regular updates again….

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She grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and angrily shoved her arms in the sleeves before yanking open the door.

The scowl plastered across her face startled poor Effie, who just happened to be on the other side. Anne abruptly stopped her flight and tried to rearrange her features into a less-frightening mien, but it was too late.

"What's wrong?" demanded the shorter woman.

"Nothing," she replied, eyes sliding down to the ground as she avoided her gaze.

"You don't look like that's a nothing." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Is it Knives?"

Anne shook her head, then stopped and shrugged. "He's part of it, but it's mostly Ace."

"What's wrong with Ace?"

Anne shrugged again, holding her hands palm up as she tried to find the words. Her mouth opened and closed a couple times before she finally settled on, "Aside from a childhood filled with medical torture, leading into an adulthood of sociopathy, not much." She stepped forward, crowding past Effie to continue on her way out of the plant. "She's planning on killing the entire human race," she said under her breath as she pushed past. In a slightly louder voice, she continued. "Knives knew about this and decided not to tell me. He was the one keeping tabs on her, and I was stupid enough to trust him."

"Oh." Effie stood in place for a bare moment, then followed after. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Anne stopped. "We?" Her voice indicated her incredulity.

She nodded. "What's the plan?"

"The plan is I go yell at Knives, then I go take Ace down a peg or two. And you stay here, where it's safe."

"Like hell."

"Excuse me?"

"You can't tell me to stay here. I'm going with you."

Anne laughed, one quick bark that was a measure of her inability to cope with the concept. "We aren't going to go have a delightful chat over tea. We're going to fight."

"Good. The brat needs it."

"And you need to stay here."

"No."

Anne shook her head. "Why do you even want to go?"

"I need to see how you fight. Half the people in the December Group are afraid of plants because we have no idea what you're capable of, and imagine pretty much everything."

"We can do pretty much everything," muttered Anne under her breath.

"I need to be able to report back on your capabilities. We humans need to know. And if it is as dangerous as you say it is, who better to see?"

"This is going to be out of your league. You could study for years and still be a toddler compared to what Ace and I are going to get into. There's just no way you can compete."

"I'm not going to compete. I just want to watch you take that brat down a peg or two."

Anne sighed and threw her hands up to the level of her shoulders. "I can't guarantee your safety. You could get terribly hurt and then what would I do?"

"You can do whatever you have to do. I'm sure that girl isn't going to throw anything at you that you can't handle, and I can take care of myself."

"But…" The words you can't died before reaching her lips. She stopped her egress long enough to look into Effie's eyes, to weigh the determination she saw there. She bit worriedly at her lip, gnawing at the flesh as she tried to find some way to convince her friend that this wasn't a good idea.

But she was old enough and had seen enough fresh young faces full of as much fervor to go out and do the dangerous deeds as Effie showed her now. Sure that there was nothing in the world that they couldn't handle, sure that they were competent, sure that life would not be so cruel as to end on them now. Sure of everything, because they knew nothing. If she knew the words to make Effie see that now was not the time to prove herself she would use them, but she didn't. She had never been able to find them, all her cautions withering in the light cast by that blind faith that the world could not be so terrible that it might throw more at her than she could handle. And that even if, by some remote chance that there might be some way that the danger would be more that she could face, why, Anne would be there.

The sigh that thought brought her managed to escape from between her lips, and with its exhalation Anne started to walk again. By not fighting when Effie fell in at her heels she was tacitly accepting her decision to follow along. She tried to assuage her conscience with the thought that Effie was likely right, that there was no way the girl could pose much of a threat. But a niggling doubt still teased at the corners of her soul.

She knew combat, knew fighting, and knew that things don't always go the way you expect them to. In fact, they rarely ever do. But this was hardly going to be combat. It was just going to be… punishment. A corrective action to get a certain randomizing element to act according to the group wishes. Shrugging her shoulders in her jacket to make it sit better, she lightly plotted out the confrontation. 

Lost in thought, she nearly collided with Mark as he came out of a corridor. The close call did manage to knock her brooding thoughts out of her head as she danced away from the collision.

"Hi, girls. Where are we going?" he asked with a smile, head cocked to the left. The smile slowly faded as he took in the determination on their faces and he paced along beside Anne as she started forward again, waiting for her to fill him in.


	121. Yelling at Knives

Look! Two days in a row!

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Anne flung the door to her apartment open and scowled at the poor occupant of the living room. Meryl had gone off to visit Millie and Vash and Alex were both working at a restaurant, so she felt fairly secure in showering her ire so blindly. 

Knives looked up at the sound of the door closing. He was sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his thighs and his hands closing over something as they entered. His eyes showed a hint of confusion before suspicion clouded them. He stood in one smooth motion, hands tugging on the edges of his slacks to set them straight, and only Mark caught that he slipped something into one of his pockets, and he didn't think anything of it.

The air was filled with a pregnant pause, Anne content to just glare at him while Knives hurriedly tried to figure out what was going on. "Why are you all here?" he asked after Anne and her friends filed in and no ready explanation seemed forthcoming.

Anne narrowed her eyes a fraction and opened her mouth to speak, but let silence reign a moment more before she began. She wanted to see if he would fidget, but the man was too composed for that, so she quietly started. "I am very upset with you." Her voice was barely above a whisper, very calm and controlled, not hinting at the yelling she had planned. Knives had to listen closely to make out what she said, and was nonplussed when he heard her announcement.

"What have I done this time?" he asked with a hint of a sigh, sliding his hands into his pockets and moving so he could lean back against the wall. "Forget to put the toilet seat down?"

"No, nothing like that," Anne replied, still using that quiet voice. "I trusted you."

"As well you should."

"As well I shouldn't. Why didn't you tell me what Ace was planning?"

"Ace?" He looked shocked. "What about Ace?"

"Oh, let me think. Maybe I'm upset over her horticultural skills? Her bad taste in music? Oh, no, maybe it's the plot to kill off humanity that has me a bit irked."

"Oh. That." He shifted his weight against the wall but didn't seem inclined to apologize.

"Yes. That. One simple little fact that you obviously felt I didn't want to know."

"No, I knew you would want to." He looked at her calmly, ice blue eyes meeting her simmering brown ones. Mark and Effie flanked the door, neither looking at the arguing couple but both ready to help Anne if she needed it. Otherwise, they were content to pretend that they weren't witnessing this little spat.

Her voice was just a bit louder, but less distinct as it came from between clenched teeth. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't think that it was your place to know."

"Oh?" She stepped forward a pace and raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid you've lost me. Was there any logic that helped you to this asinine decision, or was it as half-assed a conclusion as it sounds?"

His gaze still didn't shift. "Who put you in charge of our lives?" he asked. "You barge in on us, change everything and then dash away. We spent more time without you than with you. What makes you think that you have the right to believe that just because we're keeping company again that you have any right to dictate the way we should live?"

"I'm not dictating the way you should live. I'm thinking about stopping genocide."

He shrugged. "Why do you think that you need to be the one to stop her?"

"I don't see you doing anything much. Sitting on your ass all day, staring at the walls and thinking deep thoughts. At least Vash and Alex got a job."

"Work for humans?" he mused rhetorically, then shuddered. "She hasn't done anything yet," he continued, dismissing the terrible thought. "Well, nothing too terrible."

"So it's best to wait until after bodies start dropping? Is this your great plan?" Her voice began to get louder. "But that would be just dandy with you, wouldn't it? I'm surprised that you aren't out there helping her. It would be easier with two, wouldn't it? Isn't that why you wanted Vash back? So you two could wipe the slate clean?" Her eyes narrowed. "Why aren't you with her? I'm sure she would love to have your help."

"I'm not with her because I don't want to be with her." He pushed off the wall and stepped forward until he was right in front of her. "She's not the one I want."

"But you won't stop her. And you won't tell me so I can stop her." Anne lifted her chin and looked Knives straight in the eye. "You'll just sit back and watch all the fun, won't you? If Ace starts killing that's no problem for you. You say that I have no right to tell you how to live? Fine. That's dandy. I don't. But I don't have the right to condone genocide, either, and trust me, I'm a whole lot more concerned with keeping people alive then staying on yours and Ace's good side, or even Vash and Alex's, for that matter. You guys can all go rot so far as I'm concerned, but I have a responsibility to protect those who can't protect themselves."

"A responsibility?" A sly smile slipped across his face. "Who gave you this responsibility, that it is so much more important that your family?"

"To hell with this family crap. I'm not related to any of you; I'm not even from this planet. You want to know what gives me responsibility? Power. I have it, others don't. It's very simple to me. If I don't stop Ace who else will? I can. Normal people can't. So I have to. Now you can sit back and watch all you want, play with the power that you have but feel no responsibility for, and you can get the hell out of my house. I can't trust you, and quite frankly, right now I can't stand you. I'm bringing Ace back, and when I do I want to see you packed. You two can go back to your damn ship and play at being superior. I'm tired of it, and I'm tired of you."

She spun on her heel and stormed to the door, yanking it open and nearly slamming it into Mark. He flung his hands up in time to keep it from clocking him in the face, then gently gripped the edge. They followed behind her, Mark relinquishing his grip only to close it, the soft sound echoing in the empty room.

Knives was left feeling as if he had been shot, that same terrible sensation of pain and losing something important, the blood rushing away and leaving him cold. His hand hovered by his waist as he stood there for a moment, indecisive. His eyes flashed between memory and the blank space that still felt of Anne's presence, his mind darting between the past few minutes and the sinking sensation in his stomach.

With faint resolve, he started towards the door. A step, a pause, two steps and a hand on the knob. He paused again to decide what he really wanted most, then he flung the door open and dashed after her.


	122. Knives ponders

*strikes pose* Three days!

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Knives caught up with them before they turned the street corner. Anne didn't pause or hold up her stride any and did her best to ignore his presence completely. Mark glanced behind himself a few times, uneasy with the plant at his back, but aside from that his arrival went entirely unregarded. 

Knives' eyes narrowed as he pondered how best to make Anne realize that she was wrong. He still hadn't completely given up hope that she might be brought to see that these human vermin that surrounded her were not worthy of the time she had sacrificed for them, but the events of the last few minutes had shaken that hope rather severely. He had known that she would fight him over the lives of the humans, but Ace? He knew that she had a soft place in her heart for the child, or for the person she remembered as a child. 

His thoughts, as much as he had allowed his mind to dwell upon the problem, were that she might be less inclined to fight Ace over the lives of the animals. He knew that the young woman agreed with his outlook as they had shared many a talk over the depredations of the vermin.

The ironic fact was that he was hardly the one to blame. Ace had come to them, had sought the two of them out because she knew that he, a fellow plant, was near. That fateful cry that had caught Anne's attention had been a calculated bid to get him to rescue her. Had Anne not gone running off so quickly to save her, she would have sought his attention in his mind, sending out wordless waves of distress until he was compelled to investigate. 

But Anne had responded first and she hadn't had a good chance to let her species "slip" out of her, and believing Anne to be just another human, evil and cruel as them all, she had kept it from the two of them. His icy demeanor had frightened her, making her remember the cautions she had gleaned from the plants in the bulbs. They had told her that the mobile plants were not to be trusted, that their goals were more important to them then the lives of their constrained family. Knives and Vash had both contributed to the death of plants, Vash through decades of denying his heritage and Knives in his plots to bring his trusting brother home.

Knives knew that letting Grey and Hopperd in the last SEEDS ship could be disastrous, but he had weighed the threat of humans with technology against the lives of two of his sisters and the scales decreed that they were less important in his scheme. Two innocents, arrayed against the humans who could have helped Vash hunt him down? But the rest of his sisters had not seen things the same. Their lives were just as important to them as his was to him, and they were irked with his cavalier acceptance of their fate.

So Ace had been cautious of them both, but she had quickly fallen in love with Anne. The woman was so competent, so caring, and was the first human she had met that seemed to care about her as a person. She had saved Ace from the men she had coerced to "kidnap" her from the plant, had cared for her, had held her close to keep the terrors away, to keep Knives away as long as he acted a threat.

Ace had laughed as she recounted that bit. A human, saving her from a plant. But it had been touching, as had been her reaction when she had found out that Ace was a plant. Acceptance, and no lessening of the love. It amazed her, thrilled her, gave her hope when she had never thought she would feel any. Perhaps not all humans were horrible after all.

But when all was done not even that love was enough to keep Anne from running away. She saw what being a plant entailed and she couldn't handle it, showed the fear that all humans do when confronted with the unknown, the different. 

Small wonder that Ace grew bitter, grew colder. Humans were all alike, all of them, even the ones who professed to care. She avoided Meryl as much as possible while they were all on the ship, a task made easy by the size of it and Meryl's acceptance of her avoidance. The girl made a large enough pain of herself during their meetings that Meryl didn't find herself too hurt by the snubbing.

When Anne turned out to be a plant, the pain that the interim years had dulled flared up again. To be discarded, run away from as if she was a diseased dog, the cavalier disposal of the time they had spent together, and all the hours they could have shared made her bitter and sharp with those around her. Knives understood this, knew why she had needed to run off, knew that Ace held no love for the humans who had never brought her anything but grief. 

He knew why the girl had taken herself away from her family, knew that all she needed was time to let the pain of being rejected by both he and Anne to fade. Given that time, he was sure that she would listen when told that her hate would get her nowhere. Grand gestures like the girl was planning would catch her out before they could even come close to fruition. He hadn't worried over the deaths of the humans, had only worried that by confronting Ace too soon that she might be still too lost in the pain of rejection to listen to them to stop. She was rejecting them in response to what she perceived were their actions, and in that dismissal was a refusal to listen to a word they had to say on any subject. She would fight first and listen never if confronted today.

But could he say any of this to Anne? Hardly. She was too worried about the threat to her precious pets to understand that her reaction was one of the worst to the situation they were in. It would only reinforce Ace's belief that they wanted her out of their lives. But if he even tried to explain this to Anne, and even if she listened, she would feel that the physical threat superseded family peace.

So here he was, following along and hoping he could keep someone he loved from being killed.


	123. Opening a door

You guys have no *idea* how hard it is to write this chapter and the ones to come. I've been thinking about them for so very long that actually writing them is a bit of a shock.

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Anne stood outside the building that she was certain Ace was in and tried very hard to not snarl. The impulse was there, but she didn't want to look like she was losing her temper in front of everyone. It was bad enough that she had an audience. She had a suspicion that the humiliation she was about to bestow on Ace would only be greater because humans were going to be there to watch, but at the moment she was only concerned with the fact that her ill temper was making her look bad in front of her friends. Appearances were important, especially now, especially in front of her friends who were still her enemies. Dwelling on that concept didn't improve her mood any. 

Her eyes narrowed as she looked that the mildly dilapidated structure. They had started at the front and walked around the entire place, but at no point was there an obvious place to enter. She knew that Ace was behind these walls, could sense it with her entire being but could not get to her. Having resolved to fight she was eager to get started, to get it over with, and yes, to enjoy the thrill of putting that chit in her place. It was about time that someone did, and who was it hurting if she took some enjoyment in her work? Lost in thoughts of retribution and getting to release some of the stress that had been plaguing her on a legitimate target, minutes slipped by. She heard Effie shift her weight from one foot to the other behind her, and the sound brought her out of her reverie and back to the problem of getting into the building. 

"Are you sure we're in the right place?" she asked timidly after Anne didn't respond to the more subtle clue.

"Yes," she snapped, then colored and turned to apologize with her eyes. Incipient combat always brought out the inner bitch, but Effie didn't deserve to bear the brunt of it. "I know she's in there, but unfortunately knowing that she's behind those walls doesn't instantly lend me the knowledge of how to join her."

"Oh. Sorry." Effie's eyes darted from hers to rest on the building again and Anne knew that her apology hadn't been enough.

She tried to get a firmer grip on her temper. "Nothing to be sorry about. I'm just a bit pissed right now, and the fact that I'm not sure how to get in there isn't helping matters any." She left out the bit about getting excited to fight. Effie wouldn't understand, and though Mark might, he wouldn't need to hear her say the words to know what she was going through.

She turned back to look at the building and sighed. This planet could be so aggravating at times. Back on earth people would just board up the windows and doors, and wood is easy enough to destroy or pry off the walls. But here, where wood was one of the most highly prized substances around, the obvious entrances had been bricked up, mortared and blocked better than she would have liked. Her battle lay behind those obdurate bricks and she couldn't concentrate on anything other than the fight long enough to take car of them.

"Can't you just… force your way in," offered Mark cautiously.

Anne threw her hands up and bitched, "Oh, sure, if you want to announce to the whole neighborhood that there's something interesting going on in the old abandoned warehouse. I thought you guys were concerned with secrecy and all that, but if you aren't…" She let her voice trail off and brought her hands together like she was cupping something between them, the focal point aimed at the door.

"Fine, blow the place up," he said sarcastically. "You're the one the mob is going to want to kill."

Anne dropped her pose as she whirled around, eyes flashing as her mouth opened to let out a scathing retort, but Knives had beat her to the chastising. His hand rested deceptively lightly on Mark's shoulder, but by the lack of color in his face the pressure applied was significant. "We should not be arguing out here," he said mildly.

"You shouldn't be here at all," pointed out Effie unkindly. "I don't think anyone wants you here."

"Pity." Knives dropped his hand and Mark took a deep breath, though he waited a moment to massage his shoulder. "So I suppose it's just irony that I'm the only one who's thought of doing this." He walked up to the blocked off main door and ran his hands over the surface. The three left behind his exchanged dry glances before they moved up behind him. Anne figured out his plan in a few moments but in a fit of pique decided that she wouldn't help. She might need to conserve her strength or something equally ridiculous.

"You might want to step back now," he said and they complied. Knives rested his hands on the wall and pressed gently. The bricks dissolved under his hands, a wave of grains cascading down and piling over the tops of his shoes. He worked at the hole until it approximated a door, running his hands around the sides as it grew until what was left looked like an arch, despite the fact that the bricks themselves were cut in the middle to achieve the effect. The line was smooth, smoother than Anne would have bothered with but she didn't make fun of him for being a bit of a perfectionist. Merely a thought sufficed for Knives to sweep the pile of dust at his feet away to either side of the door, making a clear trail into the building.

With a bow he gestured for the others to enter. Anne stood back a moment then clapped slowly, near silent sarcasm. The entire endeavor had taken maybe four minutes and was done with no more noise than the sound of dust on the wind.

"You have been learning," she said sourly as she walked past him.

"I had good lessons," he replied.


	124. Passing through

Getting there…

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Anne was in the lead again and was very conscious of the people behind her. Why did they have to be here? This was a private matter between her and Ace, wasn't it? There was no point, having them here. She was only inconvenienced by them, by having to keep them out of what trouble was to come. If she had any chance of being obeyed, she'd order them to go back to the plant and wait for her return, but she wasn't vain enough to think that they would listen. Her thoughts circled round and round on themselves, a protective camouflage to mask the fact that she was prepared to kill someone that she loved.

Dwelling on that would do no good, and might actually harm her ability to respond. Ace was all grown up now, and if this was how she chose to act then she would need to learn how to accept the consequences. Sadly, you just couldn't let someone go about taking lives and pretend that just stopping them from doing it again was enough. Unless they personally changed the only thing that would stop them was having their right to life stripped from them.

She knew very well how hard it was to stop killing once you decide that it's an acceptable response. How easy taking a life can be, and how the soul just goes away for a while in self-defense. Maybe she could stop Ace before the girl grew hard and cold, but what if she was too late? What if only a killer met her today, a killer wearing the body of the girl that had stolen her heart? What if she had to kill someone that she could never stop loving?

She didn't lie and tell herself that life could not be so cruel, that she would not find someone to love just to have to end it. Life could be that cruel and often was. Especially to her. It was nothing more than a fact, no emotions attached, no pity or pain. Likely the worst possible thing would happen just because it almost invariably did. She would go on regardless, just as she always did.

All of these thoughts lurked in the recesses of her mind, not lingered upon, not acknowledged, but present all the same. Her ill-temper was her only shield against having to think things through, and if she did that she might not be able to make herself go through with this. Better to stay mad, to focus on things that didn't matter. 

Then even those thoughts were pushed aside by ones of greater import. Something twitched and her brain responded, categorizing and assessing the threat. Shadows moved along the floor, gliding, pressed close to the concrete, hiding in the dust that lingered in the corners. Focusing on them, Anne noticed with a hint of relief that they were just dogs. 

Dogs, but not tame ones. A pack, and one unmoderated by any human contact, these dogs were either feral litters whelped in this very building or abused victims that had finally fled to the streets to find a home with others of their ilk.

Anne didn't even try to stop her lip from curling. Hiding out in a pack of dogs? What a place to call home, and an ironically fitting place for the child to have gone to ground. These animals were hardly worthy of the name. Stripped by man of the characteristics that make the wolf noble, then stripped again of their place by a man's side, these animals were little more than a pack of mangy cowards. What a fitting place for Ace to hide, she thought, sneer deepening.

One of the hounds that watched their passage had been abused. Threatened and beaten by the human members of his pack, he had been left behind to fend for themselves when they moved to another city. Falling in with this pack, he survived his time on the streets and thrived enough to keep greeting another new dawn, but no passage of days or years could erase the memory of the abuse that had been heaped on him in his youth.

Here, his home, where it was safe from the humans that had always been a hazard to him, here paraded a pack of them, walking in as if there was no threat. A soft growl rumbled in his throat as he pondered the threat that they posed. Humans were pain, were hits and bruises, sticks and clubs and rocks. He couldn't bear that they were here, was sure that they were only here to bring pain and throw things and hurt, and with that thought he gathered his legs beneath him and launched himself at the first human to come his way.

Anne barely had time to register the threat before she reacted. In her years as an assassin many of her targets had kept dogs as a bit of added insurance. Big, vicious dogs that were trained and tortured into being cold killers, they were supposed to be some sort of deterrent. Sadly for her targets, and even more so for the poor dogs, it was easy to reach into the mind of an animal and disrupt brain functions. Anne had perfected the thought-quick technique of sliding between the synapses and ceasing all function. Killing them with a thought, essentially, and the worst threat that they ever were to her was when they had already launched themselves at her. If they hit she got bruises.

This dog was no different. That same move came to her as if the years between her last time and this were no more than days. What she had drilled into herself long enough to be reflex still remained, and the dog died almost before his front paws left the ground.

Those behind her noticed that something had happened but not quite what, seeing only a flicker of movement before the threat had ceased. Knives knew that it involved a trick but not much beyond that, and he stared at the body as they passed, sparing a thought to wonder what else she knew and hadn't passed on.


	125. Words before battle

I better get more than one review for *this* chapter. *goes off to cry that no one loves her anymore*

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Anne followed that vague feeling of Ace's direction, wandering through halls and rooms and corridors until she found herself in a large room. Dust lingered in the air, motes dancing in light from the high windows like the sparkles after a magic spell. The beams of light were illuminated by the particles suspended in the air, the afternoon sun slanting in at a shallow angle to splash upon the far walls. To someone with a little more time and a little less anger it might have looked pretty. Anne hardly even noticed it.

Ace was sitting in the middle of the room, back to the door. Perhaps forty feet separated her from those who had come to stop her, a distance more of perception than dimension. If Ace was concerned by the intrusion she gave no outward sign, continuing to pet her hound, stroking the soft fur of its head and rolling the soft fur on his ears between her fingers.

Anne entered the room only far enough to allow everyone else to file in after her. She waited for a minute to see if the girl would acknowledge their presence but grew tired of the waiting game she was playing. Striding forward a couple paces, she left behind those who had followed her in. She stopped when she was twenty feet from Ace and stood with her feet spread apart slightly wider than her shoulders, keeping her balance loose and even while planting herself firmly on the ground.

"We need to talk," she said firmly after crossing her arms. Unconsciously she threw her head back a bit, raising her chin and staring down her nose at the person who still had the gall to ignore her. Her control of her temper began to slip even further and she firmed her grip on her emotions. If she had the time or the inclination, she would have checked to see if her temper was rising in response to the emotions of those around her.

Ace, however, responded as cool as ice. If she were angry she gave no easy sign. "Hello, whore," she said conversationally, not turning or publicly taking her attention from her dog.

Anne was too much of a professional to let that comment rock her, but the pain of it flared deep in her heart before she could control the feeling. "Ace, what you're planning to do is wrong."

"Eavesdropping in my mind?" The tone was haughty, but tired.

"Making sure that you were still ok."

"Whatever." Ace shrugged gracefully, a slick motion on shoulders and wrists, then stood in one smooth move, legs untangling from beneath her. She moved with the ethereal grace that all the plants possessed, a knowledge of muscle and function and aptitude that exceeded human norms. For all of the grace of her motions, Anne nearly cringed when she saw her.

The precisely groomed woman was gone, replaced by one whose hair needed brushing, whose face was in dire need of a wash, and who still wore the clothes that she had run out in. Her cheeks had thinned out a bit, showing the lack of food that had plagued her. Despite outward appearances, fire flashed as brightly in Ace's eyes as it did in Anne's. Her weeks of deprivation had only served to hone her spirit.

Or the lack of a decent meal was driving her a bit batty, Anne allowed. The stray thought flickered a smile across Anne's lips, and Ace responded with a frown, guessing incorrectly at the source of amusement. There was no water in this building and the substance was too precious for her to easily steal. How easy was it for Anne to stand there and laugh at her for being dirty. Anne, who worked for the worst group of humans on the planet, worked for those who only wanted to see them all dead. 

The hypocrite. 

She felt her dog stand at her heel. Untrained in the forms that humans considered appropriate for his kind, still he stood by her in readiness to protect. She could feel his anger, both as an emotion she could sense and in the shakes that rolled under his skin. She rested her hand on his head, holding him back without words, without even looking at him. This was not his fight, but like dumb beasts throughout history he would join it anyway.

"So, I get a visit. What brings you down here? If it were just concern for my welfare I would expect to have seen you before now." She shrugged again. "But I guess you were too busy for that, screwing Knives and all." She didn't spare the man a glance, didn't look at anyone but Anne. All her energies were bent on eliminating that spark of humor that twinkled and laughed at her. As she watched it began to die, so she continued. "How quickly his attentions shifted. From you, to me, to you again. For now. I mean, how fickle can you be?" She sighed theatrically. "Just a man after all, and we all know how easily their attentions wander."

"This isn't about Knives," said Anne. She refused to be baited.

"No? Then it must be about your pet humans. How much do they pay you to do their research, to make plants superfluous, to make it easy for them to kill us all? Is it enough to pay for all our lives, enough to let you sleep well at night in your fickle lover's arms? Is it enough to repay my torture at their hands, mine and all the brothers and sisters that we are never going to get to know?"

"I'm working for a future."

"Of course you are. Whose? Those humans behind you seem entirely too pleased by your willingness to kill me."

"They think you're a brat."

"Am I?" Ace shrugged again, unconcerned by the information. "Much fun as this little talk is, I don't think that's what you came down here for."

"I came to make you stop. To change your mind."

"You came to kill me. You're the pet hound of your December masters, running the course they want you to. Just like mine." With that last statement she lifted her hand from the head of the dog beside her. With his launch at the evil one threatening his pack, the battle was begun.


	126. A quick fight

Thanks for all the reviews! *stops crying*

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Anne contemptuously watched the dog move towards her. Someone else might that that he was full of grace, the play of muscles bunching and releasing under his skin a testament to an inhuman power, but to her it was nothing. Physical brawn, no match for what she could do with a single thought. Her eyes sought out Ace instead. This was hardly the way to begin the game, with such a weak move by a meager pawn. She had to know that this wouldn't stop her, so instead of instantly dealing with the threat the animal posed she assessed her foe. Ace had drawn her body off to the left, shifting her right leg behind her body so she provided less profile. Her hands were raised to the level of her waist, palms facing towards the threat that Anne posed. The cold look that had entered her eyes as she left the apartment two weeks ago was still there, the ice having grown only harder in the interim. She might have thought that she was hiding what she felt but Anne was too old and too experienced to be fooled by an amateur's attempt at concealment.

Anne rapidly assessed what the chit might be trying to do next, whether defense or attack. By the look in the girl's eyes it was defense, and Anne prepared her response accordingly. She had better be ready to defend against something that she had no way to expect, because that was what was coming her way. Only a fraction of her attention was being paid to the dog. He was no threat.

As far as the dog was concerned, though, he was a very viable danger. Not knowing that he was out of his league, he threw himself at her with a fury unmatchable by a creature capable of higher thought processes. His mind was concerned with only one thing: death. A leap, then two he advanced, intent only on savaging. Finally deigning to deal with him, Anne reached out her mind to stop his advance. 

And her mind slid through his with no damage dealt.

Ace had not been ignoring the group as they had wandered through her new home. She had kept an eye on them, sensing their disruptions in the currents of energy of the place. Every step they took was carefully watched by her mind. She had felt Knives open the door for them, had known their passage as they came inexorably closer. Everything they did in her building, she knew. And so she was the only one who actually caught what it was that Anne did when she killed the dog who had been about to attack.

Ace didn't spend any time pouting that Anne had failed to include that in her book of tricks. She could see how it would be advantageous for information like that to lie in the hands of only one person. It made one very powerful indeed. But now was not the time to dwell on the attack and the evidence that things had been hidden from her. Now she needed to find a way to counter it or she would likely be the next victim. Her thoughts found what she thought might be a solution, but rather than risk her life on it, she fixed it in the dog's head and resolved that he would test it for her.

Her solution worked, obviously.

The shock of it was enough to grab Anne's attention immediately, all her mind reeling from the concept that something might be going wrong. That wasn't supposed to happen; she was supposed to win. She was the good guy, right? Wasn't it in her contract somewhere? Random thoughts fluttered at the edges of her mind but she paid them no heed. She tried her trick again with equal success, wasting her first moment making sure that she hadn't done anything wrong the first time, then wasted a precious second in shock. She had barely enough time for her surprise turn to a realization that she was in danger, and for that to register before she was actually in extreme danger. Her arms came up in an effort to ward her torso, again just a reflexive action, and with about the same impact. Thought was an impossibility as she was transported to the last time she had felt so helpless. The image of her stepfather's face flashed before her eyes and her mind went blank under the accompanying wave of terror.

The dog slammed into her, over eighty pounds of muscle, teeth, and claws. His muzzle sought her unprotected throat and his teeth sunk together in the soft flesh. After getting a good grip he shook his head, tearing the muscles and breaking the skin. The carotid artery was nearly severed and her blood splashed in his face and eyes. The dog was not deterred, even as the blood ran down his throat and nearly choked him. Her trachea was crushed, the pain of its breaking spiking through her skull. She knew that it hurt, knew that the pain was terrible, but her conscious mind could not focus on it. It was hazy, distant, happening to someone else very far away. There was no pain as the fangs ravaged her neck, just a vague feeling of something that wasn't right. What her mind focused on was the strange feel of the blood running down her chest, how hot it was, and how much of it there was. She was much more concerned with how heavy the dog was, and how he was on top of her and she couldn't get him off. Why was she on the ground? This just wasn't going right at all.

Then she wasn't really thinking of anything at all. It was funny, really, how unprepared she was. She had let her training slack off, had trusted to her reflexes, and then look what happened. Someone went and changed the rules of the game on her.

What a sad way to die.

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The end.

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*snickers the quiet evil author laugh*


	127. Slipping away

Well, the end of the fight, at least.

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No one moved, not even after Anne hit the ground. She was a tactician without par. She might look like she was in trouble, but surely this was just a ruse to make Ace overconfident. Any minute now, she would sit up, laugh, and throw a lightning bolt at the brat. Even as the dog continued to savage her, moving from her throat to gnaw on one shoulder, still no one could believe what had happened. It was outside the realm of possibility that she could be beaten by so weak an attack. Not her, not someone who spoke of being a master assassin, a killer without equal. Anne was not the sort of person to lose a fight, and if, by some small chance she might not win she still would have fought.

But Anne had never been a master assassin. That had been Kiley, and in giving up the need to see herself as a killer she had given up many of the rituals and exercises that had once allowed her to be the best of the best. Had she given herself time to retrain, time to reacquaint herself with the demon that lurked inside, then there is no doubt that she would not have gone down so quickly. But she trust instead in her reputation, forgetting how hard she had needed to fight to maintain it, and in her reflexes, and those were what had lost the battle for her. She had forgotten how to think in battle. Had she been able to deflect the first salvo then it is likely that the ability that had lain dormant for the past few years would have awakened. But it was not to be. 

The first person who actually comprehended that Anne had lost was Ace. She stood, waiting and waiting for the attack to come, the attack that she knew would come but never did. Seconds drifted by like hours, each portion of time an eternity while she anticipated what was to come. Watching Anne, watching her dog, and waiting. All until she noticed something, something small, something nearly insignificant. Anne's hands, which had been pushing at the dog, trying to push it off of her, the hands she had been watching for clues of what was to come next, had fallen to the ground. The fingers still tried to dig in the ground, fingernails scrabbling weakly against the dirt, but there was nothing in then now for her to fear.

Ace lifted one hand from its guard position and placed it delicately before her mouth. A giggle escaped her, then another, and then she sat down hard as her knees grew weak beneath her. Laughing like a maniac, she lifted her head to look at the roof above and guffawed until the tears rolled down her face. This was too rich. She had feared someone who had fallen faster than a feather dropped from waist high. She had thought that killing Anne would be hard, but it was so easy. The irony grabbed hold of her and filled her with more mirth then she could physically contain.

Ace's laughter broke the spell that held Knives immobilized. Without conscious thought he found himself at Anne's side, falling to his knees, hands reaching out to the horror that he could hardly believe. Some part of his mind threw the dog off. He didn't pay enough attention to his actions to know what he did, but he flung the dog away with enough force that when it hit the wall eighty feet away the skin burst and blood splattered and poured down from the point of impact.

His hands were drawn to the mess that remained of her throat. Blood still pulsed weakly from the severed veins and a high, shrill whistle indicated that she still tried to breathe. Her mouth opened and closed, shaping words that she no longer had the ability to put voice to. A romantic would be irked to learn that they were curses, and not terms of endearment to her stricken lover, but there you have it. Her right hand came up and grasped his sleeve, her eyes fighting past the haze of pain just long enough to see him there. The curses stilled, and she mouthed, "I'm sorry," then tried to say nothing more. 

He said nothing, no soft words of encouragement, no lies that things were going to be okay. Softly, he drifted his right hand over her face, closing her eyes.

Then she quit breathing, and her heart quit pumping.

The room seemed to eat the sound in it, sucking the energy from the sound waves, making the space seem deathly quiet even when it wasn't. Ace's laughter still pealed from her, her tears still falling past her ears to moisten her hair. Effie whispered a denial over and over again, her throat so tight that she could force no more sound past it, even had she been aware that she was saying anything.

Then there was the scrape of fabric against the ground, of shoes sliding in the dust as Knives carefully gathered Anne in his arms and arose. She dangled so gracelessly from his grasp, arms and legs swaying without volition as he turned towards the door. Her head was rested so carefully against his shoulder, positioned and cradled in a way that the gaping wound did not show. Save for the blood that covered them both she might have just been sleeping.

Knives turned and slowly stepped his way out of the room, his gaze not resting on anyone there, not seeing anyone as he carefully made his way to the exit. Ace ceased laughing and called after him, "I'm still available. Maybe if you beg prettily enough I'll let you come back." Her tone was singsong, the words oddly blank of malice.

He said nothing, not even a tightening of the muscles in his back to indicate that he heard her, or that he cared at all. He passed beyond the threshold to the hallway and the darkness there swallowed him up.

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Sorry about not updating. I wasn't being sadistic, just sick. After work on Friday I came home and pretty much passed out, and yesterday saw me pretty much not moving from my bed. I tried just surfing the web for a bit but sitting up was too much work.

I'm better today, though. And come on, did you think that I'd really end it like that? That abrupt?


	128. Fighting in a dream

*looks about sheepishly* Yeah, another update.

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Mark could not believe what he had just seen. Anne had, she had just, and then, and Knives… his mind replayed the scene over and over again and he wished that he could convince himself that it was only a dream. A nightmare. A fantasy, something that could not be real, could not be possible. But he could see the blood where Anne had lain, and if his eyes could focus on the far wall he could see the remains of the dog, and in his ears Ace's laughter still echoed. He blinked hard twice, willing the scene away but it stubbornly stayed, the still tableau unchanging.

Then Ace gave a little groan and shook herself, rolling her shoulders and raising her arms. She arched her back as she stretched, then sighed a bit as she eased the tension. Reality seeped in with each motion, each little movement anchoring the past to the future.

"Well, that was unexpected," she commented idly, not addressing the humans at all, but instead looking at something that only she could see.

It was so unreal. Mark shook his mind out of the rut of replaying the past but he still felt like he was dreaming. The air felt heavy and thick with something he could not put a name to. Vaguely, he was aware of what he was doing, but it was nothing he could stop.

Slowly his right hand lifted to fumble at the snaps on his holster, easing the restriction, allowing him to draw the gun as his eyes tried to focus on the person before him. Time didn't slow, precisely, as he drew the weapon up and aimed it at her head, but it moved oddly, pausing at random places then jumping ahead until he was certain that he had actually moved, but all that remained in his memory was a jumble of still images in no real progression.

And then he was looking at Ace down the barrel of his gun, her face obscured by the sight, and things felt better.

Then she laughed.

"Do you think that is going to stop me? I took down your little hero with my pet; do you think a slug of metal is going to have a chance of hurting me?" She rested her hands on her hips and thrust her pelvis forward, throwing her shoulders back and raising her chin in a manner that was obviously intended to be enticing.

Mark thought it was rather sick, a shoddy playacting. He began to apply pressure to the trigger, slowly inching past one pound, then creeping up on two. At four he would fire, and at least his part in this farce would be over.

"Do you think that I'm not at least going to try?" he asked as the thought occurred to him, then felt his mouth curve in what he hoped was a smile. "It's worth a shot, at least."

Ace laughed again, a high pitched tittering that would have gotten on his nerves if he stopped to think about it. She abandoned her come-hither pose to fling her arms out. "Look, I'm innocent," she laughed. "I'm not doing anything at all. Unarmed! Unthreatening! Just a little girl," she added, biting her thumb and looking at him coyly. "Why, I didn't even touch your little paragon of virtue." She looked over her shoulder at the smear on the wall. "Bad doggie, no biscuit." She intoned gravely, her voice lifting into childlike registers. She looked back at Mark. "He's very sorry." Then her voice dropped back to its normal range and she shrugged, her hands dropping to rest on the waist of her pants. "But I'm not."

"I don't care," Mark said. His finger continued to squeeze, passing three pounds of pressure and creeping up on four. Then the final pressure point was reached and the gun kicked in his hand. He wasn't braced for the kick, so he didn't see where the shot went. 

Inside the room the noise echoed from wall to wall, sound layering on sound and assaulting the ears. When the noise and smoke cleared enough for thought and sight to work again, he looked to see what effect his shot had on Ace.

Nothing. Less than nothing. She was holding something gingerly between the finger and thumb of her left hand, blowing on it as she rolled it slightly.

"Thank you for the present," she said politely, giving him a radiant smile, showing both a dimple and even, white teeth. Then her smile morphed into a moue of disappointment. "But, I have nothing to give you in return. I guess I'll just have to give this back." She dropped it into the palm of her right hand and blew on it dramatically, one breath, a pause, a larger huff, a mock disgruntled look, and then a small puff of air. 

The bullet rose in the air a couple inches, then slowly advanced towards him. It gained speed until about half the distance between them had been covered. Ace obviously tired of the game she was playing and sent the bullet directly through his left shoulder. 

The joint felt like it was on fire, and then like someone shoved a hot iron in the space that his joint used to occupy, and then poured pure starfire in the new hole. His arm actually dropped a half inch as the joint was destroyed. 

He struggled to breathe, struggled to stay on his feet, struggled to make his eyes focus again. The haze that had been beginning to lift was back, fogging everything he did, everything he thought, everything around him.

But he found himself lifting his revolver once again, and that was no struggle at all.


	129. Saving a friend

We'll be getting back to Knives in a bit, don't worry.

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Effie could hardly believe her eyes. First, Anne had just died. Just like that, just that quick, so fast that her mind could barely encompass the horror. Ah, screw that. Barely? She couldn't even get her mind around enough to qualify for barely. Maybe it was easier for Mark, and for Knives. They knew violence, knew death. She didn't.

What was she doing there? She was a desk jockey, practiced only at riding her group of engineers and trying to get them to all think in the same direction. She wasn't a hero, wasn't a person who ran off and tried to make the world right. But it had seemed so easy, Anne had seemed so sure of herself and she had been caught up in the feeling that it would take almost nothing to make everything perfect.

But nothing was ever perfect on this world. 

Instead, she found herself almost all alone in an old warehouse, her closest living friend getting shot by his own bullets, and she couldn't do anything. She couldn't breathe, couldn't feel her heart beat, could barely feel her own body. Between the retort of the shots and shock she couldn't hear anything at all. She could just watch.

The bloodspray that arched out as the bullets entered his body. The small twitch from the bullet's passage, followed so quickly by his body's convulsion from the pain. Watching him fall as first one and then the other knee was shot out. The sweat that dripped from his face. The horrid look of unconcern on Ace's face as she watched. 

Even with both shoulders shot out and both knees ruined, still Mark managed to raise his gun and squeeze the trigger.

And still Ace caught it.

And she sent it back.

Effie couldn't hear anything, but her throat was raw with the anger of her scream. Her vision hazed, a combination of red and black threatening to overwhelm her. Dimly, she felt herself falling to her knees. 

As her sight came back she looked for Mark, afraid of what she was going to see but too morbidly curious to look anywhere else. Did this last shot puncture his heart? Was he staining the ground with the last drops of his life, just as Anne had so few minutes prior? Was she to be next?

But no. Mark still lived, and look as she might she could find no new wounds. His head tried to turn her direction but as soon as his eyes left Ace he began to tumble, whatever force that had lent him the strength to keep firing finally deserting him.

Effie launched herself towards him, scarcely believing that Ace hadn't sent that last bullet winging back to him. Getting to her feet would have taken too long so she scrambled towards him as much on her hands as on her feet. Once there she ran her fingers over his face and chest, feeling for the wound that she was sure had to be there, that she feared to find. 

His eyes met hers, his gaze clearing enough to ask her a question but his eyes closing before he found the strength to voice it. Effie began to panic, nearly losing what composure she had left before she caught sight of his pulse, still fluttering weakly in the veins of his neck. 

Effie frantically pulled at his shirt, trying to tear it to make bandages, trying to do something before she watched him die on her, but she still saw Ace begin to walk over. Whirling, she jumped into a crouch, hands raised before her with fingers clenched into claws, a snarl forcing its way on her face.

"You will not take him too," she growled as Ace paused. The small plant girl merely shrugged in response and stepped forward the last couple paces to close the distance between them. She dropped onto one knee, reaching between Effie's arms and ineffectual swings to grab her chin.

"You aren't a plant," the girl said in an almost calm voice. "How did you do that?"

Do what? she thought, and although she didn't voice the words Ace heard her and laughed. It was a bark of honest surprise, completely different from her laughter of just a few minutes before. 

"You don't know?" Ace lifted up a misshapen bit of metal and showed it to her. Still uncomprehending, but knowing that she didn't like that Ace assumed that she had any right to touch her, Effie yanked her chin out of Ace's hand, pulling back just enough for her eyes to be able to focus on Ace's face. A glare is so much more effective when you can see to direct your rage, after all. "No, you don't know," the girl said, unperturbed by Effie's show of defiance. She settled back on her heels and bounced the bit of metal on her palm reflectively. 

Effie's eyes were drawn to it, just a quick glance before returning to glare at Ace. The girl caught the look all the same and mirrored it, looking at what now lay still in her palm. "This was the last bullet," she said musingly. "You stopped it from hitting your boyfriend." Ace looked at Effie again. "So what sort of freak does that make you? One of Vash's by-blows?" She shook her head, dispelling the notion. "No. Not likely. So what are you?"

"Nothing that's a friend to you," Effie found herself saying. With an almost physical effort she broke Ace's gaze and returned to trying to stop Mark's bleeding. She gave up on trying to rip his shirt, instead divesting herself of socks and anything else that might possibly work as a tourniquet long enough for her to get him to a hospital.

Ace stood and wandered off to pace the room, and aside from keeping an eye on her to make sure that she stayed far enough away, Effie concentrated on helping Mark.


	130. To the plant

Look, Knives!

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If people stared at him while he walked the streets of December, Knives didn't notice. If they pointed fingers or whispered behind their hands at the gory picture he presented, Knives didn't care. If pedestrians scrambled out of his way, if cars came to a screeching stop when he passed through intersections, Knives neither bothered to notice them or tried to stay out of their way.

No one tried to stop him. That he would have noticed and it would not have gone well for whoever dared to interrupt his journey. It wasn't that he wanted to hurt anyone, wasn't that he was raging and suppressing the need to destroy something or someone to ease his anger. But had anyone gotten in his path with the intention of slowing him, well, he wasn't in a mood to pull his punches. 

He knew, objectively, that people must be staring. He could feel the blood on his face, itching as it dried, and whenever he looked at the eerily still bundle in his arms he couldn't help but be surprised by all the blood. Even after thirty blocks it still dripped from her clothes, although less now as it began to dry. Due to the way he held her in his arms, you couldn't see the mess that had been her throat, but you would have to be a fool to not notice that there was something wrong, even without the blood as a clue. 

During the walk his thoughts were strangely still. He didn't panic, didn't fret, just paced slowly through the streets, careful to keep his hold on her body. It wouldn't do to drop her now, after everything else she had been through. Aside from being a huge indignity, it would make him stop, and stopping might make the walls around his thoughts crumble, and then he would have problems.

No, better to concentrate only on not dropping her. For the time that it took him to travel to the plant all he had to do was not think very hard. That was easy enough to do.

As he entered the plaza facing the entrance to the plant, he noticed that someone was trying to contact him. Opening his mind, he let the thoughts travel through his consciousness. What they told him was enough to make him stop his steady travel and was even welcome enough to entice a small smile of gratitude to flitter across his face.

And then he started thinking again, thoughts tumbling over each other in a haste to penetrate the fog that was no longer there. Taking their advice, he first reached out to his brother.

__

Vash, I need you.

Through his brother's ears he heard a plate drop. _Knives?_

Bring Alex to the plant. Anne's been hurt.

How bad? He could feel Vash's hands tighten on the counter, then search for a towel.

__

She may die, even with all of us working together.

Is Ace there?

Ace did it to her.

There was a long pause and Knives could feel Vash's thought racing, adding things together and coming to a conclusion that had him begin to run, pausing only long enough to grab his son by the shoulder and drag him bodily from the restaurant. _I told you that playing with Ace wasn't a smart idea,_ Vash shot off before closing his brother from his mind.

Knives frowned, not needing the reminder, and wondering what his brother meant by his remark. It wasn't his style to just say "I told you so." He didn't worry at the question long, but began to walk the last few paces into the plant.

The place was a madhouse. As he entered the doors, two people tried to push past him, either not seeing what was in his arms, or not caring. The lobby itself was home to three small groups of people huddling together and clucking, voices full of fear. Knives pushed past who he had to, then made life a little more exciting for the employees by pausing long enough to pull the fire alarm.

The shrill ringing of the alarm echoed in the hallways. He pushed past more people, the only one moving further in the building, forcing his was through the exodus like a salmon returning upstream. Here people noticed Anne, and some even commented or exclaimed in recognition, but her condition was assumed to be the result of the tumult in the building, not the cause.

It was only a few minutes before Knives made it to his destination, but the panic and crowds made it seem like an eternity, and he wondered why Vash and Alex weren't there yet. The emptiness of the plant chamber made it seem quieter than the hall, but the alarms were louder here than they were anywhere else in the building. Here one of the plants was fighting to go offline.

The technicians at their monitors struggled to bring the plant back up. Some did their best to redirect power needs to other plants, and if they were surprised to see that there was enough being supplied for the most pressing needs, then they just assumed incorrectly that the techs in the other chambers were doing their best to help out. 

Knives walked past the workers intent on their nightmares and climbed the stairs to the bulb. Gently, he set Anne down on the walkway, then stood and faced the room. The plant behind him flared brightly, then brighter, then a flash brighter still, and those of faint heart fled the room, fully half the technicians willing to try their luck somewhere else where it didn't look like an explosion was about to take place. 

Of those who remained, two thirds turned to look at what the plant was doing. Upon seeing Knives standing there, calmly resting his elbows on the railing, three of these remaining humans knew who he was. They, to a man, ran away, pushing each other in an effort to be the first to the door.

Now there were only three humans left, two still intent on their work, and one left wondering just who the heck the blonde man was, and was that blood? And where did everyone else go?


	131. Getting to work

Ok, now to go make with the sleepy.

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Knives looked down at the confused human and waved, a small smile on his lips as he enjoyed the discomfort he saw. The technician tentatively waved back, then dropped his hand and glanced back at his monitor. When he looked up again Knives was walking towards him, and the man had only enough time to realize that yes, that was indeed blood before Knives stopped in front of him.

"You will want to leave," he said softly. 

The tech looked at him, mouth dropping open slightly in shock. "But I have to stay here. The plant is in trouble and we can't tell why."

"She's not in trouble, she's taking herself offline for a bit. There is a more important matter for her to deal with than making sure that your cars can run and that your food stays cold."

"But… What are you talking about? What did you do to it?" He looked over Knives' shoulder at the plant who had emerged into the bulb and was huddled near the bottom.

"I did nothing to her. She is a sentient being, and as such can make decisions of her own from time to time. Much as you humans would like to pretend that she is just a piece in a machine, she is a living being and has her own mind."

"I don't understand you."

"You don't need to. You just need to leave. Now." Knives grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him to the door then shoved him through the opening. It didn't matter if the man tried to walk or not, he moved as quickly dragging his heels as he did when he stumbled along. The protests that the man had made on his unplanned journey caught the attention of the last two technicians, finally dragging their attention from their monitors to take a look around. They saw Knives, and the blood, and decided that maybe it was best that they continue their efforts somewhere safer. They might have been oblivious but they weren't stupid. They ran.

The room seemed very empty after they left, but the situation was quickly rectified by the appearance of Vash and his son. They had not encountered too many difficulties as they entered the plant, but Alex was limping a bit from stumbling on the stairs to the front door and banging his shin. Alex locked the door behind him, then followed his father through the room.

"What happened?" Vash asked again as they approached the platform.

"Ace and Anne fought. Anne overestimated herself and got her throat torn out," Knives related calmly from his place at her side. Vash kneeled down and looked at the wound. 

"Those aren't human teeth marks," he said after a moment. "It looks more like a dog."

"Ace had a pet."

"Had?" inquired Alex after taking a quick look at what remained of her throat and sitting back hard on his heels. He looked up at the plant and waved a bit as he swallowed and tried to keep his nausea under control.

"Had." Knives looked up at Alex, then quirked an eyebrow at his brother. 

Vash put a hand on his son's shoulder and asked, "Are you sure you can handle this?"

"I don't think you guys can fix her without my help."

"We might not be able to save her even with it," Vash cautioned. "This is a graver wound than any we practiced healing." They had only had each other to practice on while they were stuck in the ship, and it hadn't seemed prudent to try killing each other just to see if they could patch things up later. The downside was that the only person with any real knowledge of fixing serious trauma was the one they had to work on.

Alex swallowed hard and looked back at Anne, concentrating on the wound, then on the damage. He ignored the fact that he knew the person that was hurt, or even that it was a person at all. Looking only at the hole as a problem to be solved he fought down the flutters in his stomach and glanced up at his dad. "I can handle it," he said and was pleased that his voice didn't break or quaver. He just wished that his stomach would take the hint and quit bothering him.

They shifted around until they were in the best position to heal. Knives took his place at the crown of Anne's head, with Vash at his right and Alex on his left. He put his hands on either side of her temples then took a deep breath. "I'll work on getting her to breathe. Vash, you work on the veins, Alex, you on the arteries. We don't have much time to work before we have to worry about brain damage, but we can't rush things and have her hemorrhage to death because we messed something up, either. The plant has offered to take her in when we're done, so we won't need to worry about the wound getting infected or a secondary infection hitting her while she's weak. Just fix the damage as fast as you can." 

Vash nodded seriously, then placed his right hand on her shoulder. "Just let us know when you're ready." Alex placed on hand on her shoulder and the other on her cheek, then nodded at Knives. 

He looked down at the task that awaited them, then flooded his lungs with oxygen, breathing deep now in case he forgot to in the coming minutes. "Let's do it then." He reversed the stasis field, and the raspy sound of Anne's attempts to breathe was the signal for them to begin.


End file.
